


To Dwell on Dreams

by AFTanith



Series: Slytherin's Legacy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chessmaster Dumbledore, Delphi is Effectively an OC, Extremely Manipulative Quirrell, Extremely Slow Burn Harry Potter/OFC, Gen, Hogwarts First Year, No Cursed Child Spoilers/References, Why would Voldemort have wanted to father a child?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2019-08-29 23:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 92,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16753141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFTanith/pseuds/AFTanith
Summary: Delphini Lestrange never dreamed that she'd be anything but a model Slytherin. Then came Harry Potter.One deeply misguided bet later, and she finds herself friends with not her cousin Draco and the other Slytherins but Harry Potter himself, the youngest of the Weasley boys, and a Muggleborn girl, to boot.But something even bigger than unexpected inter-House friendships is going on at Hogwarts this year. There's an off-limits corridor that's never been off-limits before, a monstrous dog guarding a mysterious trap door, and a teacher or two (or three) behaving very suspiciously indeed.And as this mystery unravels for Delphi, Harry, and their friends, they're poised to discover that at Hogwarts, almost nothing is as it seems.Everyonehas secrets just waiting to be revealed.





	1. What Separates Men

**Author's Note:**

> So, let's get this out of the way:
> 
>  _Cursed Child_ is a dumpster fire. But at the same time... I'm definitely taking a little bit of inspiration from it. To make a long story slightly shorter, this series of stories is something I've had in my mind (and in various half-assed attempts at a draft) since I was a little girl and the end of the _Harry Potter_ series was a far-off inevitability. I never actually wrote the story until now because, you know, there's enough of this particular cliche in the Harry Potter fandom, and my imaginations pertaining to it were never something I was exactly proud of... And then _Cursed Child_ came out, and it was a mix of nonsense ideas--some of which were better than the shite I came up with at eleven and some of which were somehow _way worse_ \--and suddenly I didn't feel so ashamed of my self-indulgent bullshit. (If Rowling is willing to endorse such a bad idea, why can't I explore mine?)
> 
> So, yeah. This is an old, somewhat shameful idea that I'm finally putting down into one definitive draft. It will borrow just a hint of inspiration from _Cursed Child_ , much though that story is deservedly maligned. That inspiration will be almost completely limited to A) the name of the original character and B) the identity of her mother.
> 
> And as a warning: this series of stories will follow a similar tonal arc as canon. It will start off fairly tame and become darker as the in-universe years go on; however, those later stories will go to even darker places than canon. They will involve more explicit violence than was present in canon, up to and including sexual violence. The stories in which those elements feature will be tagged appropriately and trigger warnings will be supplied, but some readers may wish to bow out now before we get there.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The true definition of a snob is one who craves for what separates men rather than for what unites them." - John Buchan

The piercing squawk of a peacock shattered the quiet morning as Draco Malfoy swooped by on his broom. Below him, lounging in the grass several meters from the flock, a dark-haired girl watched the sky. Delphini Lestrange was eleven-years-old: a very important age for a young witch or wizard. Her cousin Draco, too, was finally eleven; his birthday had come and gone just a bit over a month ago, and in this, he was lucky as all the summer-born witches and wizards were. Delphini herself had been born in late October, and so she would be nearly twelve by the time she finally made it to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The wait had felt nearly intolerable.

Of her eventual attendance, though, there had always been no question. Like Draco, Delphini had been clearly magical right from the start; accidental magic had followed her since her infancy (and Draco since his toddling years). They had both been waiting on their Hogwarts letters for a very long time--and today, those letters would finally arrive.

Delphi's dark eyes scanned the horizon as Draco whizzed past her once again. Delphi had a broom of her own, of course, but she had never very much liked flying; she preferred to leave the Quidditch to her cousin. Instead, she kept up her vigil, watching eagerly for the Hogwarts owl. Absently, she wondered where her little Boros had got off to, but she wasn't surprised by his disappearance. That one always made himself scarce whenever he knew an owl would be visiting the manor, and Delphi had talked of nothing else for days now. She only hoped that he wouldn't be gone long.

A loud crack split the relative silence, quite a bit more startling than the bird's shriek had been. Delphi leapt to her feet in an instant, jolting with the realization of what it must have been.

A few meters off, Draco dove toward the ground and landed rather gracelessly on the grass. At least he hadn't toppled this time.

"She's here," Draco called out to her, his voice unnecessarily dark and ominous.

Delphi, though, was relieved to hear this displeasure in his voice; his discomfort helped to put her own at ease. "You make it sound so... serious."

Draco's broom was propped lazily against his shoulder as he approached her. "Isn't it?"

Delphi shrugged. "At least she isn't your grandmother. Who cares what she thinks of you?"

All she got from him was subtle shake of his head. "Clearly, you haven't overheard the horrors I have."

Delphi raised a brow at this, wondering when her cousin could've had a chance to eavesdrop on anything that she hadn't--and why, if he was telling the truth, he hadn't offered her these stolen secrets immediately. But there was no time to ask him; another crack, and there was Dobby, the Malfoy family's wide-eyed and miserable house elf, standing before them. "Mistress says the young masters are to come greet Mistress Lestrange in the drawing room," he squeaked in that high little voice of his, and then he was gone again. No doubt Narcissa had given him a meters-long list of other tasks to do today.

Draco and Delphi shared a look. "We'd best," Delphi said.

Draco sighed, dropping his broom carelessly into the grass for the house elf to fetch later, and the two children headed in.

* * *

Madame Adrasteia Lestrange, the grand and elderly mother of Delphini's own father, Rodolphus Lestrange, was a stately, no-nonsense, and rather unaffectionate woman swiftly approaching her centennial. She'd seemed ancient, distant, and cold for as long as Delphi could remember; Delphi could not recall a single instant of the woman holding her as a child, kissing her tenderly on the forehead or cheek, or even so much as smiling in her direction. This, though, was not something Delphi paid much mind.

They rarely saw Grandmother, after all. She wasn't even related to the Malfoys--not any more than all purebloods were related to one another, at least. Delphi might have been Draco's first cousin, but that was through her mother's blood; the Lestrange branch of the family was on her father's side. And far be it for such a proper pureblood woman to impose too often upon relatives who weren't even tied by blood.

So, even though it had been nearly five years since they had last seen her, Madame Lestrange did not seek out the children. Only when supper finally arrived did Delphi finally set eyes upon her grandmother once again. The woman looked positively regal as she sat to the right of Lucius's place at the head of the table. Beside Grandmother sat Narcissa, her pale eyes watching the children like a hawk for the slightest hint of impoliteness, and Draco and Delphi sat side-by-side across from the women, bristling with excitement. Unless something had gone wrong, Narcissa or Lucius would have received their letters by now; Delphi, for one, could hardly wait to get her hands on hers.

But impatience, of course, was never proper. Delphi and Draco ate in silence, each barely able to control their excitement as Lucius, Narcissa, and Madame Lestrange droned on. Though she hadn't seen them for half a decade, the old woman hardly had two words to offer either Draco or Delphini. "She's still rather small for twelve, isn't she?" was the one comment lobbed in Delphi's direction, its tone so distasteful as to almost sour her mood.

"I'm eleven," Delphi snapped unthinkingly--then felt her heart sink at the furious look on Aunt Narcissa's otherwise pretty face.

Madame Lestrange ignored her entirely, as if Delphi's voice had been little more than a particularly intrusive gust of wind, and the meal went on with the shadow of Narcissa's eventual wrath hanging over Delphi's head.

Not until dessert did the conversation finally turn in the direction the children had been craving. "Well," Madame Lestrange finally said in that stately, I'm-in-charge voice of hers, "let's hear it, then. Have the children got their letters?"

Narcissa smiled fondly across the table at her son and her niece, though Delphi knew better than to assume her earlier outburst had been forgotten. Even Lucius had the vague hint of proud approval about him as his wife answered, "Of course, Adrasteia! There was never any question of it. Draco and Delphini will be attending Hogwarts on the first of September."

Madame Lestrange nodded imperiously. "Quite right," she said, affixing her judgmental stare once again upon her granddaughter. "Though I must say I sometimes wish there were a better option. Hogwarts is no place for families such as ours, not with Albus muggle-loving Dumbledore as Headmaster."

Lucius merely shrugged, which Delphi privately thought a very brave thing to do when faced with one of Grandmother's opinions. "Dumbledore was already Headmaster when Narcissa and I attended, Adrasteia, and I'd say we came out of it no worse for the wear. A properly raised pureblood child can withstand even Dumbledore's meddling."

"Fair enough," Madame Lestrange conceded. "The Headmaster, at least, has little direct interaction with the students. The day-to-day minutiae of the school comes down to the teachers themselves--and especially to the Heads of House. Who is it now for Slytherin, Lucius? I seem to recall you saying you knew the lad?"

Lucius nodded and took a long sip of red wine. "Severus Snape," he answered. "An acquaintance from my own school days, in fact. Never would've dreamed he'd end up a teacher, I'll admit it, but he's a proper head on his shoulders... For the most part."

"I don't recognize the name Snape. An American lineage, perhaps?"

Lucius's lips twitched slightly downward into the faintest hint of a disapproving frown as he answered, "Half-blood. His mother was pure, I believe, and apparently severely deficient when it came to self-respect."

Madame Lestrange snorted derisively, and Delphi exchanged a little look with Draco at this most improper sound. "Yes, it's the girls you need to watch out for. The boys dally in secret, and you end up with just another little Mudblood none the wiser to their father's shame. The girls, though... the girls have to carry that filth inside them, and they never break free of that humiliation." She shook her head; apparently, she could imagine no worse tragedy than a pureblood woman giving birth to a Muggle's halfblood spawn. Delphi paled as Madame Lestrange suddenly looked very sharply at her. "You'll remember that, I hope, once you've headed off to Hogwarts. You might be my only descendant beyond the walls of Azkaban, but that doesn't mean I won't disown you if I find out you're becoming a disgrace to the name Lestrange."

"Yes, Grandmother," Delphi said quietly. She could feel her cheeks starting to warm up, and she dropped her gaze back to her plate. She would be twelve very soon, yes, but that didn't mean she had so much interest in boys that there was any reason to worry about...

Across the table, Madame Lestrange let out a heavy sigh. "And we're getting fewer every year, aren't we? My own sons couldn't stay out of trouble long enough to breed the healthy stock they were supposed to... Pure Wizarding blood is quickly whittling down to nothing. A few more generations, and there will be nothing but Weasleys left. At the rate those little freaks breed..." She shook her head again. "We should start thinking of marriage prospects for Delphini as soon as we can, of course. These days you can't wait for the children to sort it out for themselves; there's too much Muggle blood in Slytherin now, too much risk she'll bring home some lying halfblood pretending he's worth something." She barked out a laugh. "A halfblood Head of Slytherin, _really_. Never thought I'd see the day..."

Delphi glanced upward just in time to see her grandmother turn to Draco. "I still think you should've raised these two with less... familiarity. It's one thing that they're cousins; it's another entirely that they were raised as siblings. You've ruined a good match, Lucius; I daresay now they'd be just a tad too incestuous."

Delphi choked. Coughing uncontrollably, she could see Narcissa glaring at her once again, but she didn't care. Madame Lestrange wanted her to marry _Draco_? Merlin's mercy, it was a horrifying thought.

"Yes, see?" her grandmother said, gesturing toward Delphi with a look of distaste. "That's precisely the reaction I was talking about! She's acting as though I suggested she wed her brother, not her cousin. But will she have any other choices? She might have to look outside of Britain to find them! Hogwarts will be difficult for her, you know. My idiot boys... And no offense to your sister, Narcissa, dear, but I do wonder what those three were thinking when they got themselves carted off to Azkaban. Now, don't either of you mistake me; the Dark Lord's mission was a worthy one. But for them to throw their lives away _after_ that misfortune with the Potters... Outright absurdity. If I could've got my hands on those three before the Ministry did, the dementors would have seemed merciful in comparison, rest assured. But I digress; I merely mean to say that her reputation will precede her when it comes to her prospects. My sons and dear Bellatrix were three of the only Death Eaters convicted of their crimes; the rest of you had a bit of common sense."

"She'll find someone," Narcissa said certainly, eyeing Delphi almost as appraisingly as the woman at her side. "She has her mother's looks, and once she grows into them--"

"Does she, now?" Madame Lestrange interrupted. Her eyes were narrowed as she surveyed Delphini. "I always assumed she would begin to resemble her mother more as she grew older, but I still can't say I see much of Bellatrix in her. The coloring is right, and I daresay she has her mother's hair, but the features..."

Delphi sank down in her chair, just a little. She hadn't expected to face this kind of critique tonight, not when she was so excited about going to school. What did it matter what she looked like? What did it matter whether anyone would want to marry her? That was all years away, and the less she thought about it now, the happier she would be.

"She is a pretty little thing, though, isn't she? She'll have that going for her, at the very least." Grandmother's eyes narrowed once again in Draco's direction. "Such a shame, though, to know that at least one good option is already off the table. Imagine if she's stuck with that little troll the Goyles produced. Or the Crabbe boy!"

Delphi, who had on occasion met both of the young men in question, couldn't help agreeing with her grandmother; Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were followers, easily swayed by stronger personalities (like Draco's, who had already become something of the de facto leader of the boys) and undeniably dimwitted when it came to thinking for themselves, and the notion of _marrying_ either of them struck Delphi as a rather horrifying prospect. Beside her, though, Draco looked more than a bit miffed at this slight to his friends.

"She'll do fine for herself," Lucius said reassuringly. Delphi glanced up toward where he sat at the head of the table, and she smiled faintly. Her uncle's vote of confidence, at least, made her feel just a bit better. "Pureblood boys may be few and far between, but the girls are in no more plentiful supply. Few can say their daughters have such noble ancestry as the daughter of a Black and a Lestrange, and she certainly has her looks going for her. Mark my words, Adrasteia; in a few years' time, she'll have prospects across the continent. Good looks and good breeding makes wizards take note." He looked at his wife as he said this, and Narcissa's lips curled into a tiny smirk of satisfaction.

Madame Lestrange shrugged. "At least a foreign pureblood is still a pureblood. Still... I do wonder if it wouldn't have been better to send the children both to Durmstrang. Even Beauxbatons might offer them more than life under Dumbledore's eye will..."

On that vaguely ominous note, Madame Lestrange's voice trailed away, apparently content to let the thought die out. The subject shifted back to the meal once again, now that their dinner plates were cleared away and replaced with their dessert. Delphi and Draco listened disinterestedly as Grandmother's complaints rambled on, moving away from Dumbledore's regime to the performance of the house elf, Dobby, then to the goblins of Gringotts and beyond. Delphi paid as little attention as she could get away with, and by the time the meal was over and both she and Draco were dismissed with copies of their Hogwarts letters in hand, Delphi all but dashed from the dining room with her heart fit to burst from renewed excitement.

Her eyes traveled the parchment again and again, a broad grin stretching across her lips. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," it began, and it ended with the signature of one Minerva McGonagall, who Delphi vaguely recalled was a teacher at the school in addition to her stated post of Deputy Headmistress. And on the next page, there was a list of the materials she would need to bring with her to school.

Delphi wandered back into the yard as she read, gaze affixed to the letter in her hands as she meandered along the garden path.

" _Watch it!_ " A soft, warning voice interrupted her thoughts, and Delphi tore her gaze from the parchment at once. Looking down, she sought out the speaker, and then, upon seeing him, crouched down to offer Ouroboros her hand.

The little snake coiled around her fingers, then her wrist, and it traveled up her arm until it once again found it usual place atop her shoulders, mostly hidden beneath her thick black hair. _"I wondered where you'd got off to,"_ Delphi told him, and she looked at the book list once more. " _My letter came today, just as I said._ "

" _We'll be off to Hogwarts, then?_ "

Delphi looked down at the poisonous little snake draped around her neck, and she grinned. " _We will be there, _"__ she assured him, _ _"_ very, very soon."_


	2. A Little Bit of Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A cousin is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost." -Marion C. Garretty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The notion of Quirrell wearing his turban during his first appearance in Diagon Alley is movie canon rather than book canon; in the books, no mention is made of a turban until Harry sees Quirrell again at the Sorting Ceremony. Here, however, I will be going with movie canon (in that Quirrell will be wearing his turban right from his very first appearance) for the specific reason of what I believe is a bit of a JKR retcon in when exactly Voldemort began possessing Quirrell. In _Sorcerer's Stone_ (or my copy of it, at the very least), Quirrell implies that Voldemort didn't possess him until after the failed Gringotts robbery; on Pottermore, however, it's stated that, "When Voldemort realised that the young man had a position at Hogwarts, he took immediate possession of Quirrell, who was incapable of resisting." To me, that implies that Voldemort possessed Quirrell when they met in Albania, not sometime on or after July 31, 1991. All in all, this is my very long-winded way of saying that for the purposes of this story, Voldemort is also present during every scene with Quirrell, and that, yes, I do realize that this detail isn't 100% canonically sound.
> 
> This chapter also contains reference to several noncanonical magical reference books; these were created with thanks to Seventh Sanctum's Bookspinner generator, which can be found [here](https://www.seventhsanctum.com/generate.php?Genname=bookspinner).
> 
> Lastly, please note that some phrases, sentences, and especially dialogue in this chapter are borrowed directly from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ (chapters four and five).

Delphi had not parted with her letter for days now. A week had passed since its arrival, and it had barely been out of her hands in all that time. She had kept it as pristine as possible, of course, for it was a keepsake that she had no intentions of accidentally sullying, but it was also a symbol of something for which she had been waiting her entire life. The letter was concrete, undeniable proof that she would be going to Hogwarts in just a few short weeks. She would be learning magic. She would own a wand.

Again and again, she had read the shopping list for their upcoming trip to Diagon Alley. Each item was in duplicate; she and Draco would require all of the same things, as this would be both of their first years. They would need their robes, of course (the school recommended three sets of them), as well as their hat, work gloves, and winter cloak. All of it would be black, which suited Delphi fine; her favorites colors had always been those that the Malfoys seemed most inclined toward themselves: black, silver, and green. The books themselves were a bit of a disappointment; she had traversed much more fascinating tomes within the Malfoy family library, and first year textbooks would likely prove a particularly boring change of pace. Still, at least these books would offer spells that she would actually be permitted to perform; the Dark Arts books that she had always poured over were no doubt far outside her ability, even if she'd had a wand. Then there were the necessary tools and equipment that any student would need for their work: a cauldron, a set of phials, a telescope, a set of scales. But what struck Delphi as far and away the most important detail of the entire shopping list was the delicate line at the very top of the page that read, in Narcissa's undeniably beautiful script, wands.

And so it was that the four of them--Lucius, Narcissa, Draco, and Delphini--arrived in Olivander's wand shop before any of the other stores along the bustling street. Delphi had insisted they stop there before anywhere else; getting her hands on a wand would be the highlight of the day, the thing that would make it all feel real, and so Lucius, ever the indulgent uncle, had permitted a change of plans.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice greeted them from a dark corner of the room, and Delphi's eyes fixed themselves greedily upon the shopkeeper. She knew who he must be at once. Ollivander, the wand-maker, was a very elderly man with pale, shining eyes reminiscent of moonlight, and as she met his gaze, the shop suddenly seemed that much darker, as if night had fallen quite suddenly all around them. He stared at her unblinkingly for a long, silent moment, and then his gaze broke from hers. He seemed to be surveying her now, examining her quite closely, but his expression gave nothing away.

Standing slightly behind her, Lucius cleared his throat. "Good afternoon," he greeted the old man in kind, but Ollivander's gaze did not leave Delphini.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy, what a pleasure." Finally, Ollivander's gaze flickered toward Draco. "This must be your son. And this?"

"My niece," Narcissa answered coldly. Delphini understood; her mother--Aunt Cissy's sister--did not exactly have a good reputation among the public.

"I see." He turned back to Delphi. "Which of you would like to go first?"

"Me," Delphi said immediately.

Ollivander's brows lifted. "Very well. Hold out your wand arm." Delphi thrust her right arm toward him, and he began to take her measurements with a silver tape measure that he pulled from his pocket. Or, more accurately, the little instrument began to take her measurements of its own accord; the man himself wandered away toward the innumerable shelves of the shop, each overflowing with unpurchased wands.

Finally-- "That will do," he said, and the tape measure flitted away from Delphi toward Draco, who startled and tried to knock it away from his face. Ollivander stared at him for a moment, and Draco's cheeks tingled very slightly pink as he submitted to the tape measure's examination. Quite abruptly, Delphi found a wand being shoved into her right hand. "Try this," Mr. Ollivander said brusquely. "Ash and unicorn hair, nine and a half inches, inflexible."

Near to bursting with anticipation, Delphi waved the wand... and deflated as nothing happened. Ollivander snatched the wand away immediately. "Not that one, then. Here--" Again, she found wood thrust into her hand. "Aspen and phoenix feather, eleven inches, slightly swishy." Again, nothing happened, and Ollivander replaced this failed attempt with another.

It went on and on. Blackthorn and dragon heartstring did nothing for her, nor did cherry and unicorn hair, ebony and phoenix feather, elm and unicorn horn, hawthorn and dragon heartstring, or sycamore and unicorn hair. It was only after all of these were tried, not to mention a few more besides, that Ollivander finally paused for a moment to survey Delphini once again. "Let us try... this." Yet another wand was pressed into her palm, and Delphi's hand by this point felt sweaty from nerves. "Unusual, this one. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, supple."

She couldn't shake the feeling that Mr. Ollivander was watching her even more closely than before as she lifted up the wand and waved it like all the others... and again, nothing happened at all.

Behind her, Draco sighed. Clearly, he did not enjoy being made to wait all this time for his own wand; Delphi regretted having demanded to go first.

"Not to worry, dear. There's a match for you here somewhere. I did doubt that would be the one. Still, best to check..." He turned his back on her, eyes scanning the shelves. "Let me think... How about... This one?"

Delphi's fingers touched the wand tentatively, feeling more discouraged than ever. But as Ollivander went on, "Apple and dragon heartstring, twelve and three-quarters inches, surprisingly swishy," Delphi gasped at the feeling of sudden warmth emanating from the wood. Eagerly, she swished it through the air... and with a strange, low whistle, a shadowy black bird swooped from the tip of it amidst a shower of emerald sparks.

Draco gasped sharply, as well, and when Delphi glanced backward, she found Narcissa offering her a congratulatory smile as Lucius looked on with a rather smug little smirk. Glowing with sudden pride, Delphi turned back to the wand-maker. "A curious match," the man muttered, apparently far less impressed than the rest of them were. "But a welcome one."

Delphi didn't know what to make of that, but she didn't have a chance to ask, either. Draco all but knocked her out of the way in his sudden haste to get his own wand, and Delphi begrudgingly let Mr. Ollivander take hers back to box it up. Now, she found herself in the opposite position, watching with increasing boredom as Draco tested wands himself. Finally, he too sent green sparks into the air, shot from the tip of a 'reasonably springy' ten-inch wand of hawthorn wood and unicorn hair. Grinning just as triumphantly as her cousin, Delphi rushed forward to hug him in her jubilation, and when they broke apart, Delphi found Mr. Ollivander once again surveying her. Suddenly uncomfortable beneath the gaze of those eerily unblinking silver eyes, Delphi felt quite ready to leave.

As soon as they were back outside, Delphi eagerly unboxed her new wand. It felt right in her hands, like a limb she hadn't known she'd been missing her entire life. She'd always heard that a proper wand was ideally suited to its master, but she had never quite understood what that meant until now. She held in her hand nothing more than a well-carved twig from a particularly magical tree with a bit of dragonflesh at its heart, and yet she knew with all her being that this was now and would always be her most treasured possession. She had lived nearly twelve years without it, but now it felt as if to be parted from her wand would be to die. She clung to it as they walked, and she wanted nothing more in the world than to steal away for a moment to a shadowy corner where she might be able to finally cast her first proper spell. Delphi hurried along behind her uncle, aunt, and cousin, barely glancing up from her wand.

_THUD._

Delphi found herself very suddenly upon the ground, dazed but relieved to find that her wand remained unbroken in her hand. She looked up, baffled by what had just happened, and realized to her horror that she had collided with a stranger. "Sorry," she mumbled, blushing faintly as she picked herself up off the street.

"Q-quite alright," the man before her stuttered, and Delphi glanced back up at him for a closer look. His appearance was even more interesting than his voice; a pale, nervous-looking young man peered down at her from beneath a large turban that didn't suit him. They stared at each other for a moment, then the man swallowed anxiously and went on, "H-h-hogwarts, yes? First year?"

Behind the man's back, the Malfoys had only just realized that Delphi was lagging behind. Draco and Narcissa lingered as Lucius, a slightly disgusted look on his face, headed back to where Delphi stood with this unknown man. "Right," she said uncertainly.

"P-pleased to meet you!" the man said, trying for a friendly smile. "M-my name is P-P-Professor Quirrell. I'll be t-t-teaching D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts to you this y-y-year."

Delphi stared up at the man--one of her soon-to-be teachers, apparently--and wasn't sure whether to judge him or to pity him. This man seemed scared of _her_ ; how exactly was he supposed to be capable of teaching anything to do with the Dark Arts?

"Nice to meet you, Professor. My name is--"

At that moment, Lucius swept between the two of them, positioning himself quite firmly between his niece and this awkward stranger. "Lucius Malfoy," he said, finishing her sentence quite differently than she had intended. "And you are?"

"Professor Q-Quirrell."

Dephi edged forward; though she could only see his profile, she recognized the sight of an unpleasant sneer on Uncle Lucius's face. "Ah, yes. Muggle Studies, wasn't it?" He said the words with such disgust that he might as well have been talking about hippogriff manure or bubotuber pus.

Quirrell didn't seem able to meet Lucius's gaze; Delphi could see one of his eyes twitching as he stared fixedly at some spot near their knees. "I-in the p-past, yes. N-now I teach D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts."

Lucius's pale brows lifted toward his hairline. "Do you now?" he asked skeptically. "How... interesting." Catching the eye of Narcissa, who still lingered a few meters away with her hand perched claw-like upon Draco's shoulder, Lucius waved his wife and son forward. "This is my niece, Delphini. She and my son, Draco, will be attending Hogwarts this year. I am sure you will find both of them exemplary students, and I very much look forward to hearing about how they are both receiving stellar marks in your class." If even Delphi could hear the implicit threat in her uncle's voice, she was sure that a man as obviously paranoid as Quirrell couldn't miss it, either. She also didn't fail to notice that Lucius had neglected to offer her surname, though he had certainly supplied his own. Malfoys, after all, had a far better standing in society these days than any Lestrange.

"I-I'm sure they'll b-b-both do their b-best," Quirrell said, now staring even further down at the ground.

Lucius sniffed, cleared unimpressed with this response, and made no ceremony of sweeping the rest of his family away from this squirrelly, stuttering man.

* * *

On they went through Diagon Alley. They stopped at Flourish and Blotts, where Delphi eagerly purchased not just this year's textbooks, but also a few that she guessed would be on future years' curriculum, such as _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2)_ and beyond, and a few for herself ( _Hogwarts: A History, An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, Transformation Through the Ages, A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, A Beginner's Guide to Invented Spells_ , and _The Peacetime Use of Basic Enchantment_ ). Each of the books disappeared one by one into Narcissa's little handbag, and then the family headed off down the street once more.

At the storefront of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, the four of them parted ways. Delphi and Draco ducked into the shop, while Narcissa announced that she would be purchasing the rest of their supplies from the Apothecary while they were getting fitted for their robes. Lucius, meanwhile, did not mention where he would be going, though Draco and Delphi were both well aware that his most likely destination was Knockturn Alley, where one could find shops of a much Darker sort.

With the adults gone, Draco and Delphi stepped into the shop. No other students were inside, only two witches who obviously worked there. One of these was Madam Malkin, a squat witch wearing mauve robes and a warm, welcoming smile. "Hogwarts, dears?" she said to the sight of them. They nodded. "First years, by the look of you. Come with me, and we'll get you fitted right away.

Both witches ushered them toward the back of the shop, where was lined up a short row of wooden footstools. The witches worked in silence, Madam Malkin pinning up Delphi's long black robes while the second witch worked on Draco.

After only a minute or two, the tinkling of a bell heralded a new arrival. "Be right back with you, dear," Madam Malkin said to Delphi before rushing to the front to greet her new customer. Delphi shifted her weight impatiently on the stool, feeling awkwardly over-encumbered by the still-too-large robes. Madam Malkin returned a few moments later with a rather slight black-haired boy at her heels. He was so small that he could only have been a first year, if he was even Hogwarts-age at all.

"Right up on the third stool, dear," Madam Malkin said, gesturing toward the space beside Delphi. As she returned her attention to Delphi's robes, she waved her wand definitively, and Delphi watched, passingly interested, as this new boy's robes began to pin themselves.

On the other side of Delphi, Draco peeked around at the new boy. "Hello," he said. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said the boy rather stiffly. Though he certainly wasn't as bad as Quirrell had been earlier, Delphi thought she detected a distinct note of discomfort.

"We've almost finished our shopping," Draco said. His boredom with the whole ordeal was painfully clear. "But I'm going to drag my parents off to look at racing brooms before we leave. I don't see why first years can't bring their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one, and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Delphi couldn't help but snort at the notion of Draco bullying Lucius into doing anything at all. Begging, yes. Manipulating, surely. But _bullying_? A ridiculous thought. The black-haired boy didn't look all that impressed with the idea, either.

"Have _you_ got your own broom?" Draco pressed on.

"No."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

Delphi, growing increasingly annoyed with the conversation taking place straight across her, was very pleased to hear the boy answer, "No." Hopefully, that would be the end of it.

Alas. " _I_ do," Draco continued. "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No."

Either this boy already quite disliked them, or perhaps he didn't know any other words besides yes and no. "Well," Draco said, apparently uncaring that this had remained an extraordinarily one-sided conversation, "no one really knows until they get there, do they? But I know Delphi and I will be in Slytherin; all our family has been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff; I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

This time, there was a longer pause in which the new boy didn't even provide his usual yes or no. He merely hummed rather disinterestedly, and Delphi cast him a quizzical look. He was being rather standoffish, after all, and she wasn't sure what to make of his behavior.

"I say!" Draco exclaimed, startling Delphi so badly that she jumped, and Madam Malkin accidentally stabbed her with a pin. "Look at that man!"

Gritting her teeth against the prickling pain of her new wound, Delphi looked out the front window at the same time as the boy. A giant of a man stood on the other side of the glass, his face almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard. In his massive hands, he held two large ice cream cones, toward which he was gesturing enthusiastically. What he wanted, Delphi couldn't guess.

"That's Hagrid," the boy said, proving for the first time that he had a proper grasp of the English language. Oddly enough, he sounded rather pleased. "He works at Hogwarts."

The name rang a bell. "He's the groundskeeper, isn't he?" Delphi asked.

As the boy nodded, Draco barreled on. "I heard he's a sort of _savage_ \--lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

Delphi, of course, had heard the same things about him. She was fairly sure, in fact, that she'd heard it straight from Lucius himself. The dark-haired boy, though, looked very upset at this bit of Hagrid's reputation. "I think he's brilliant."

 _Not good_ , Delphi thought. Draco wouldn't like that. " _Do_ you?" he asked, sneering. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

Only as he asked the question did it sink in to Delphi exactly why this boy knew so much about the stranger waving into the shop. Clearly, they were here in Diagon Alley together, which could only mean one of two things: either Hagrid was a friend of this boy's family, or else he was family to the boy. Either way, Draco had clearly affronted him.

"Draco," Delphi said sharply, casting her cousin what she hoped was a reproachful look.

" _What?_ " he asked snidely, but she had already turned back to the boy.

"I'm Delphi," she said. "I'd shake your hand, but I'd rather like to not get stuck again. What's your name?"

The boy's hesitation surprised her. He had answered all their questions so far, though not particularly well. Surely his name should've been an easy answer to supply... and yet he seemed loathe to offer it up.

"Harry," he said finally.

"And your _surname_?" Draco pressed rudely.

Again, Harry had a look on his face like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world. "Mine's Lestrange," Delphi offered, hoping that might loosen his tongue. It was a gamble, of course; assuming he knew who her parents were, he would quite likely stop talking to her altogether. "And he's Draco Malfoy."

"...Potter," the boy said quietly, and for a moment, Delphi thought that perhaps she'd misheard.

"What did you say?" demanded Draco.

"You're _Harry Potter_?" asked Delphi uncertainly. Part of her felt awed; another part was suddenly very wary.

Even Madam Malkin and the other shopgirl had stopped to stare. Harry's face started rapidly turning crimson. "Guess so."

"You're not _sure_?"

But both Harry and Delphi ignored Draco's latest snide remark. "Wow," Delphi whispered. "I thought you might be in our year, but... It's nice to meet you."

"Er, same," Harry said, though he still seemed very uncertain.

"You're done, dear," Madam Malkin interrupted, and Delphi was suddenly very grateful that the woman doing Draco's robes seemed to be going so slowly. Now that she knew she was talking to Harry Potter, she certainly didn't want to go. She stepped down from her stool as Madam Malkin's attention turned to Harry, giving Draco a unimpeded look at the darker boy for the first time since he'd arrived. Draco didn't seem impressed by what he saw.

"I hope you're in Slytherin with us," Delphi said enthusiastically, and already her mind was racing off with the possibilities. Harry Potter was a legend, a savior to most and a bogeyman to some. Not for the first time, Delphi imagined going to Hogwarts with him; now, she imagined what her school years could be like if she could convince this boy to befriend her. But first, he would have to be in her House. He would have to be worthy.

"Yeah..." Harry said unconvincingly. Delphi's smile faltered slightly.

"Do you hope to go somewhere else? Ravenclaw seems like a good second choice."

"I don't know much about it," he admitted awkwardly, and the implications of this suddenly hit her full force.

This was Harry Potter, and he didn't know a damn thing about the world. Where had he been hidden away all these years, Delphi wondered. Surely he hadn't been sent off to some Muggle orphanage when his parents died? Short of dying with them, she could think of no more horrifying fate.

"That's alright!" she said quickly, though no part of her meant it. "Let's see... there's Slytherin, which is by far the--"

"Done, dearie," Madam Malkin said again, and Delphi's smile disappeared completely when she saw how quickly Harry stepped down from his stool.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid's waiting, I really need to go!" he said quickly, shoving his money toward Malkin before making a beeline for the door.

Feelings rather hurt, Delphi turned back to Draco. "Looks like he didn't like you," Draco said rather coldly, and Delphi's eyes narrowed into a glare.

"His ice cream was melting," she snapped, though she knew it was a weak justification for the way she'd just been abandoned. Clearly, Harry Potter had not liked her or Draco any more than Draco had liked him. With a jolt, Delphi wondered if it had been because she'd given up her name; could he know the Lestrange reputation without knowing much else about the world? Merlin, she hoped not.

Draco laughed in her face as the second seamstress waved him down from his stool, his own robes finally finished. "Please! He practically ran away from you!" He laughed again as he thrust his money toward Madam Malkin, and, rather uncharacteristically for him, he grabbed Delphi's hand as he ushered her out of the store.

"Well, I had to try, didn't I?" she asked crossly. "He's Harry Potter! You know what that means, don't you? We'll be in his year! This is..."

"I know," Draco said. " _Famous_ Harry Potter will be getting all of the attention, no matter how good a wizard he is, or how smart, or how... sensible."

"You never know. He could be a brilliant Dark wizard in the making."

"He didn't look like it. Besides, he's a half-blood. How good could he really be?"

Delphi shrugged. "Half-blood's still better than... well." She knew better than to use the word Mudblood in a crowd. "Not as bad as it could be. I'm sure there are plenty of half-bloods interested in the Dark Arts. Probably plenty who're really good at them! Let's at least wait to see if he makes it into Slytherin. Having Harry Potter as a friend would be..."

"Valuable," Draco finished for her. "But not if he's the wrong sort. He could be a Muggle-lover for all we know; I'm fairly sure he was raised by them! Imagine!" He shuddered.

"He could still be turned, probably..." Delphi said, considering. "If we could make him understand what kind of power he could have if he just made the right choices, the right friends... I think we should try, Draco. To befriend him, I mean."

"I doubt you have much chance. Or have you already forgotten that he _ran away from you_?"

She glared at him. "I did better than you did, you prat! He couldn't stand you, or couldn't you tell?"

A faint pink tinged colored Draco's cheeks. "Ran. Away," he repeated.

Delphi huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I bet I could befriend him."

He scoffed. "I bet you can't."

"I bet _you_ can't."

"Fine!" Draco exclaimed. "Fine. You want to bet? Let's bet. If I can befriend him, you'll do my homework for a month afterward. And if you become his friend--"

"You'll owe me a favor."

"What?"

"You'll owe me a favor," she repeated matter-of-factly. "I don't want you doing my work, thank you very much, and I can't think of anything else I want right now. So you'll owe me one. Deal?"

With narrowed eyes, Draco nodded. "Fine. You're on."

They shook on it, and when Narcissa returned, the three of them headed without Lucius toward the Owl Emporium. Harry Potter was not mentioned again for the rest of August.


	3. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "First impressions are always unreliable." -Franz Kafka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some phrases, sentences, and especially dialogue in this chapter are borrowed directly from several chapters of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_. Thankfully, this should be the last chapter that suffers quite so much from the issue of retreading canon territory. From here on out, canonical scenes should be much fewer and farther between.

August stretched on uneventfully. As the days between herself and Hogwarts slowly slipped away, Delphi occupied herself with her course books and her new wand. True, laws existed against underage use of magic, but Delphi had never given these particular restrictions much thought; so long as she was at Malfoy Manor, the Ministry of Magic would have no way of distinguishing her magic from either Lucius or Narcissa's. All the Ministry would know from a distance was that magic was happening; so long as she didn't cause some manner of catastrophe, no one would ever come to take a closer look. Delphini could get away with damn near anything she could want.

And what she wanted, for now, was as much knowledge of magic as she could get her hands on. She tore through the Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) within days of its purchase. The book, of course, being a first year's textbook, was very basic indeed but also utterly straightforward and quite easy to follow. Within two weeks of purchasing it, she had already delighted herself, impressed her aunt and uncle, and more than slightly annoyed Draco with her newfound ability to cast the wand-lighting charm and its counter, the wand-extinguishing charm; the levitation charm; and both the unlocking charm and the locking spell. In the weeks leading up to September first, Delphi rarely had her nose out of her books.

The night before the first, Dobby the house elf summoned Delphi to the parlor on her aunt and uncle's behalf.

"Sit down, Delphi," Lucius said. He and his wife both looked ominously serious, their stony expressions sending all manner of panicked thoughts coursing through Delphi's mind. Surely they hadn't changed their minds at the last minute? She knew there had been some discussion of attending Durmstrang instead, but certainly the day before start-of-term must have been too late to make that decision!

Delphi sat, as she was bid, directly across from the Malfoys. A little coffee table sat between them, ancient and ornate as was the rest of the house, and Delphi's high-backed, black armchair still dwarfed her even at almost-twelve.

"Is something the matter?"

Narcissa shook her head reassuringly. Lucius spoke. "There is something we need to discuss before you leave tomorrow, Delphi. I know you understand that this year may pose some difficulty for you. Your parents will not be well-liked among many of your peers. Even some of the other Slytherins may not understand at first. You must, then, be careful with how you present yourself. It will not benefit you to have others believe you a threat. Not in your first year. The Malfoy name commands respect, and Draco will be able to vouch for you on my behalf, but you will still need to position yourself carefully. Do not get on the wrong side of the older Slytherins. Take care in whose company you criticize Albus Dumbledore. And whatever you do, do not let any of the other students discover your Parseltongue."

Delphi stared for a moment. "But the other Slytherins--"

"May know when you're older and better established within their ranks. Revealing that type of ability now is... not something I would advise. You do not want that type of attention upon you this year, Delphi. Not when Harry Potter will be there for the first time, as well."

So that's what this was about: the chance of people going batty about the Boy Who Lived.

The bet she'd made with Draco lingered at the back of Delphi's mind. Somehow, she didn't think her aunt and uncle would approve of it.

"I understand," said Delphi finally. "I'll be careful."

"Stick to Draco," Lucius advised. "And remember that Professor Snape is a family friend. He's not the most... personable man, but you'll be able to trust him. Play the game carefully, Delphi, and you'll be able to let all your little friends in on your secrets in a few years. Just take care for now."

"I still want to bring Boros."

Lucius hesitated; Narcissa gave him a significant glance. "If you must."

Delphi smiled gratefully, hiding how rattled and dissatisfied the conversation had left her, and they dismissed her from the room.

She didn't plan to abandon her snake any more than she planned to abandon her bet.

* * *

Delphi and Draco were insufferable the next morning, Lucius and Narcissa finding them as uncontrollable as they themselves found their excitement. Though the train didn't leave until eleven o'clock, Delphi was already fully prepared to go by eight on the dot, and her pestering of her aunt and uncle began almost immediately. She wanted nothing more in the world than to speed up time, to force the train to take her to Hogwarts when she demanded, the other students be damned. As the minutes slipped into hours, Lucius and Narcissa's patience waned extraordinarily thin. Delphi took to pacing back and forth in the manor's entrance hall, so full of nerves that she managed to trip over Dobby the house elf more than once as he too bustled about making sure that everything was ready.

Mercifully, at half-past ten o'clock, Lucius and Narcissa finally consented to leave for the train. With Dobby in charge of transporting Draco and Delphi's luggage to Platform 9 3/4, the children and adults paired off. Delphi grasped Lucius's arm as Draco held his mother's a few feet away. Side-along Apparation had never been Delphi's favorite way to travel, but she couldn't deny that it was the most convenient.

Delphi took one last look at the manor. She wouldn't see it again for months at least, yet though she knew she would miss it, she couldn't wait to make Hogwarts her second home.

Delphi blinked--felt the familiar lurch of Apparation--and then they were on the platform.

The roar of a crowd ensconced her immediately. All around, owls screeched, cats yowled, toads croaked, and families chattered. Little children, too young to attend the school, raced around their parents and older siblings, screaming with excitement. Trolleys clattered, laden with cauldrons, broomsticks, and trunks full of clothes, tools, and schoolbooks. There were students everywhere, some still in Muggle clothes but many already wearing their Hogwarts robes as Draco and Delphi were. Some were fresh-faced and overexcited first years no older than Draco and perhaps even a month or two younger than he; some, though, towered over the first years and were, to Delphi's own not-quite-twelve-year-old eyes, barely distinguishable from the adults of the crowd. Magic crackled in the air all around them, an undeniable spark one always felt within a large gathering of witches and wizards.

A loud _crack!_ heralded Dobby's arrival, and the children's luggage appeared on the platform before them. Lucius stalked forward; the crowd upon the platform seemed to part for him almost unconsciously, and he ushered Draco and Delphi onto the train. "Find yourselves a compartment," he said, and they rushed off to do as they were told. Once they had found one, Lucius levitated their trunks, their cauldrons, and the cage of Draco's new owl onto the train and down the narrow corridor to their compartment.

When all of their things were safely tucked away, the family parted ways. Lucius left entirely, having said the most heartfelt goodbyes he cared to offer; Narcissa went to join a small gaggle of other mothers, among whom Delphi recognized Mrs. Crabbe and Mrs. Goyle; Draco wandered off to find the two aforementioned women's sons, and Delphi...

Delphi snuck back off the train. She weaved in and out of the crowd, eyes sharp as she sought any glimpse of a slightly built, black-haired boy. He would be near the exit to the Muggle platforms, she knew; if his family were Muggles, no doubt he would have no choice but to enter through the enchanted brick barrier that she'd read about in her new books.

And there it was, an innocuous brick wall through which families occasionally appeared at a run. She didn't recognize any of them, nor should she; no self-respecting pureblood would dare arrive upon the platform that way.

Minutes ticked by as Delphini watched, her mind growing more and more anxious all the while. What if, being so famous, Potter was already getting special treatment when it came to the school? What if he wasn't taking the train to Hogwarts at all, but being rescued personally from his Muggle captors? What if Delphi kept waiting and waiting, and he never came?

Then, without any of the fanfare that it surely deserved, Harry Potter appeared with his trolley, looking for all the world like he had no idea what was going on.

Delphi watched him for a moment longer, wary of the potential for _Muggles_ to follow him through. But it wasn't Muggles who appeared next. It was a boy, a tall, lanky redhead with freckles and a long nose, and as he joined the rest of his family, Delphi realized just who these people were. They were Weasleys, the lot of them; a plump middle-aged redhead holding the hand of a too-young-for-Hogwarts little redheaded girl, a pair of stocky redheaded twin boys; another redheaded boy wearing a prefect badge; and of course the freckled boy following the Boy Who Lived.

Thankfully, Potter didn't seem to be actually _with_ them. He wandered off, apparently oblivious to where he was going, and left the flame-haired brood behind. Delphi seized her chance.

"Hi!" she exclaimed as she approached him from the side, and Harry jumped so hard that he nearly upended the caged owl perched atop his trolley.

"Hi," said Harry warily.

Delphi was determined not to let his lack of friendliness wither her own. "I'm not sure if you remember me. We met in Madam Malkin's? I'm Delphini, but you can call me Delphi. Do you know where you're going to sit on the train?"

Harry blinked at her. "Er... no," he said, and though she could tell he didn't want to sit with her, she wasn't about to let him slip away.

"I've already got my compartment, and you're welcome to join me! The train will fill up fast, I'm sure, and you definitely don't want to get stuck in an awkward situation." She gestured toward the train, still smiling broadly. "Do you want me to show you?"

He hesitated for such a long time that she thought he must be figuring the most polite way to say no. "Yes?"

Thrilled at this most flimsy victory, Delphi spun on her heel and waved for him to follow close behind. She was relieved to see that her and Draco's luggage had done its job in their absence; no one else had taken the compartment while they were gone. "Here it is," she said.

Again, Harry hesitated. Then, seemingly resolved to her presence, he began unloading his own luggage from the trolley. He carried his owl's cage into the compartment without issue, but his trunk proved more difficult. Harry struggled with it for a few moments before Delphi stepped forward, wand raised.

"I can do it," she said as Harry eyed her suspiciously, but before she could get the incantation out, someone interrupted.

"You'd best put that away." It was one of the redheaded Weasley twins, and Delphi was so startled at being addressed by him that she quite forgot to be annoyed. "We're not supposed to do magic outside of class, and the last thing you want on your first day is for someone to snitch. Oy, Fred! C'mere and help lift this!"

The second twin seemed to materialize out of thin air, and between the two of them, Harry's trunk was safely delivered into Delphi's compartment. She could only hope that Narcissa hadn't seen what was going on. Draco's mother would be furious to see her anywhere near a Weasley boy.

As Harry paused to thank the twins, Delphi waited impatiently to recapture his attention. She just needed to get him into the compartment, and then she'd get to work on trying to befriend him. Surely, they must have _something_ in common that she could work with. Surely--

"What's that?"

One of the twins was pointing at Harry's forehead.

"Blimey," said the second. "Are you--?"

Delphi suppressed a groan. Just like that, the secret was out. The older boy must have caught sight of Harry's fabled scar; she hadn't glimpsed it for herself yet, hidden as it was behind those messy, overlong bangs, but she knew as well as anyone that it was there. "He _is_ ," the first twin said. "Aren't you?"

If nothing else, Potter knew how to play dumb. "What?"

The twins announced it in unison for all the crowd to hear. " _Harry Potter!_ "

"Oh, him," said Harry, and Delphi wondered vaguely if this was a boy she wanted to befriend after all. "I mean, yes, I am."

Harry's skin began to turn as red as the other boys' hair, and when their mother's voice called them away ("Fred? George? Are you there?"), Delphi didn't waste a moment in seizing Harry's hand and pulling him into the compartment. She shut the little door behind them, feeling very thoroughly relieved.

"You'll be getting that a lot, I expect," said Delphi, and as she sat down opposite him, her eyes scanned the lightning-shaped scar he'd revealed upon his forehead when he'd brushed aside his bangs.

"Great."

Sarcasm! That had to be a good sign. Delphi gave him a sly little grin. "There are spells, you know, to cover that up." She nodded toward his scar. "But I'd wager it's too late now. Those Weasleys will--"

But she fell silent as a snippet of conversation floated in through the open window of the train. " _Harry Potter!_ " she heard for the second time in as many minutes, again uttered by one of those eerily synchronous twins.

The boy in question sank down in his chair, looking miserable. A little girl, no doubt the redheaded sister that Delphi had seen earlier, spoke up enthusiastically. "Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please..."

The mother's voice was kindly scolding. "You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo." This was a degree of politeness that Delphi had never been taught to expect from a Weasley. "Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there--like lightning."

"We can close the window if you'd like," Delphi murmured to Harry, who had once again started turning red. He shook his head minutely.

"Poor dear," Mrs. Weasley went on. "No wonder he was alone; I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Delphi gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth immediately. _That_ was the callousness that she expected of a Weasley. "I forbid you to ask him, Fred! No, don't you dare! As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

The mother, it seemed, was not nearly so terrible as the rest. Delphi wondered how the Malfoys would feel about her quickly-growing respect for this unexpectedly decent blood traitor.

As one of the twins--Fred, she supposed--grumbled about his mother's admonishments, the train whistle sounded. As the Weasley boys clambered onto the train, their sister began to cry. And then the train started to move, and the little red-haired girl chased after it, laughing even as she sobbed, heartbroken to be the last of her siblings left behind.

Delphi's grin returned to her face, this time far more enthusiastic than the forced smile she'd worn before. _They were going to Hogwarts_ , and she was sitting beside Harry Potter, of all people. And, even better, Draco was nowhere to be found; this was her chance to befriend Potter without Draco's influence, and she was eager to make as much ground as she could manage.

"So, Harry--"

The door to the compartment slid open, and Delphi was horrified to find yet another Weasley boy--this time, the freckled first year--staring at her and Harry. "Mind if I join you?" he asked. "Everywhere else is full."

 _Merlin's bleeding beard_ , Delphi thought. How was she to get rid of this plague? But Harry shook his head, inviting the intrusion, and so Delphi held her tongue as the Weasley took a seat at Harry's side.

"So," Delphi tried again, "as I was saying--"

"Hey, Ron." The twins had returned. Delphi crossed her arms over her chest sulkily. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train. Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said the second twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later then."

Both the boys echoed the twins' goodbyes, and the twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted before Delphi could even bother to try starting again. Harry nodded. "Oh. Well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes. And have you really got... you know..." He gestured vaguely at Harry's forehead, and Delphi fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Harry's bangs, which had once again fallen in front of his forehead, were pushed to the side to reveal the scar for a second time. Ron looked awed. "So that's where You-Know-Who--?"

"Yes, but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" Ron sounded far too eager for Delphi's taste.

"Well, I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

 _That_ caught Delphi's attention. She didn't know as much about Dark Magic as she would've liked--not yet, at least--but she knew what green light lay in Harry Potter's history. If he actually remembered the Dark Lord casting the Killing Curse upon him.... She suppressed a shiver.

"Wow," said Ron, as if that could possibly cover it. He kept staring as silence settled into the compartment, and finally Delphi decided that the coast was clear to try her sentence again.

"So--"

"Are all your family wizards?" said Harry suddenly, and though he was looking right at Ron as he asked it, Delphi had no problem pretending otherwise.

"Yes," she said enthusiastically. "All of us. Every single one."

Ron gave her a rather odd look, like he'd only just noticed something distasteful about her. "I think all mine is," he said. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

 _Who would?_ Delphi thought.

Harry looked oddly miserable at this news. "I suppose you two must know loads of magic already."

Delphi shook her head. "Not loads," she protested. "I've only practiced a few spells so far. But I've pulled off everything I've tried! What about you two?"

Ron's ears tinged pink, and he didn't answer. Instead, he turned to Harry. "I heard you went to live with Muggles. What are they like?"

"Horrible," Harry answered, but Delphi's thrill was short-lived as he continued, "well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," Ron corrected gloomily. Delphi was surprised to hear that he seemed as displeased with his massive family as she was. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left--Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Delphi could hardly believe her eyes as Ron withdrew a fat gray rat from the pocket of his Muggle jacket.

"His name's Scabbers, and he's useless. He hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff--I mean, I got Scabbers instead." Ron's ears went pink again, but there was no taking back the syllable he'd uttered. Delphi knew exactly what he'd been about to say, and Ron likely knew that they knew; he stared determinedly out the window.

Delphi tried to imagine it, not being able to afford something as simple, as _vital_ as an owl. She couldn't seem to wrap her mind around it. Never once in her life had she lacked the means of getting something. What she wanted, she asked for, and what she asked for, she got.

"I didn't think I'd be able to come to Hogwarts at all," said Harry quietly. "My aunt and uncle--the Muggles that raised me--they've never liked me much. They don't like to buy me things. They hardly like to think about me at all. Growing up, I was always made to wear these terrible clothes that belonged to my cousin, Dudley. He's _huge_ , bigger than you can imagine. And birthdays were always a laugh. I've always gotten terrible presents from them. One year, my aunt's idea of a present was this hideous old sweater. She tried to cram it right over my shoulders... not that it worked. It kept shrinking; she was so confused. I dunno if I've ever seen her so furious. But that should have been my clue, I guess. My aunt and uncle didn't want me to know about magic in the first place, and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort--"

Delphi felt as if her heart plunged into her stomach, and Ron gasped aloud, looking stricken.

Harry looked bewildered. "What?"

" _You said You-Know-Who's name!_ " Ron's awe was unmistakable. "I'd have thought you of all people--"

"I'm not trying to be _brave_ or anything, saying the name," protested Harry. "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn... I bet I'm the worst in the class."

 _I sure hope not_ , Delphi thought. What a waste of a friendship that would be. "You won't be," said Ron reassuringly. "There's loads of people who come from Muggle families, and they learn quick enough."

Delphi didn't exactly believe that, but she supposed there was probably some truth to it. "Besides," she said, content to let them believe she was endorsing Ron's assertion, "you're Harry Potter. If you can survive the Dark Lord, you can survive first year! You've just told us you've performed accidental magic before. I'm sure you'll be a natural."

For the first time since she'd met him, Harry appeared to appreciate Delphi's words. He gave her a tiny, grateful half-smile, and she beamed at him in return. Ron cast a glance between them, looking a bit skeptical, but Delphi didn't mind. She wasn't going to let some blood traitor spawn come between herself and what she wanted.

"First year spells are simple anyway," she continued. "And useful, of course! Things like creating light, opening locks, making flames... To be perfectly honest, I'm very much looking forward to seeing the Hogwarts library. I've already read my school books and a few extras besides, so I can't wait to get my hands on whatever else I can. Do you like to read?"

Ron stared at her as blankly as if she had been speaking Mermish. Harry, too, looked caught off guard. "Er... I suppose," he said noncommittally. "But I haven't read my school books yet. I didn't think..."

"Of course you haven't!" exclaimed Ron. "That's _mental_!" Delphi's brows shot toward her hairline; from the look on Ron's face, he immediately realized that he'd said something he shouldn't. "Sorry," he mumbled, and he went immediately back to looking out the window.

Delphi turned back to Harry, unable to force her smile back on at the moment. A _Weasley_ had just insulted her. _Her!_ She let the silence linger, and Harry, too, seemed disinclined to break it. It might have gone on forever if not for the arrival at half past twelve of a smiling, dimpled woman wheeling a clattering cart in the corridor beyond.

She slid back their door. "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Ron blushed once again-- _couldn't these weasels even afford food?_ Delphi thought viciously--but Harry leapt to his feet. As Ron muttered something incoherent about sandwiches, Delphi joined Harry to investigate the cart.

The witch had all the usuals: Bertie Bott's, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, and the like. Delphi wasn't impressed, but Harry clearly was. He bought some of everything, forking over Sickles and Knuts with a wealthy wizard's disregard. Delphi silently approved.

Ron, though, seemed less enthusiastic. "Hungry, are you?" he asked, and though Delphi didn't hear anything particularly snide in his tone, the words seemed skeptical at best.

"Starving," said Harry. He took a massive, indelicate bite of a pumpkin pasty.

Beside him, Ron stared discontentedly down at a pile of sorry-looking sandwiches. He peeked beneath the bread of one and pulled a face. "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

Harry held up a pasty. "Swap you for one of these?" Ron looked hesitant. "Go on!"

Ron seemed about to protest; Delphi cut in. "I'll take some Bertie Botts, if you're offering, Harry."

He handed her a bag of beans, which she took gratefully, and then shoved a pasty into Ron's hands. "Forget the sandwich. I'm happy to share."

They ate enthusiastically. Delphi had to admit she didn't get it; they both seemed more thrilled than eating candy warranted. Sure, sweets were a nice treat, but these two were acting like something amazing was going on.

"What are these?" Harry asked once his attention turned to the Chocolate Frogs he'd purchased. "They're not _really_ frogs, are they?"

Delphi laughed, sure that he was making a joke... and then realized to her horror that he _wasn't_ as Ron said, "No. But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know. Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect. Famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

As Delphi watched with only passing interest, Harry unwrapped a Chocolate Frog and inspected the card. "So _this_ is Dumbledore!" he exclaimed.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron, though Delphi was fairly sure Harry meant to say nothing of the sort. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa..."

Harry handed Ron a Chocolate Frog, but his eyes remained fixed upon the card in his hands. Delphi watched his pupils roam back and forth, reading the little biography of Albus Dumbledore that she knew was on the back of the card. Then Harry turned the card back over--and gasped.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back."

Delphi eyed Harry curiously, realizing for the first time how horrible it must be to live as a wizard raised by Muggles. Imagine not knowing anything about the world. Imagine being surprised by a picture! "Don't Muggles take photos of each other?" she asked.

"Yes," said Harry, still staring down at the empty card, "but people just stay put in Muggle photos."

"Do they?" Ron sounded as utterly shocked as Delphi felt. "What, they don't move at all? _Weird!_ "

As Harry went back to his pile of Chocolate Frogs, Delphi turned her attention to the redhead at his side. The last thing she could have expected this morning was that she would be riding to Hogwarts in the company of a Weasley, and yet here she was, sitting across from him as they both vied for Harry Potter's attention. She had imagined that Draco would be her rival in this, and yet her cousin was nowhere to be found; he, no doubt, would have put a stop to this. And yet... Delphi didn't seem to mind Ron's company as much as she had expected to. Perhaps it was simply because of how little Harry knew about the world, but Delphi found herself relating more to Ron than to him. Compared to Harry, she and Ron actually seemed to have something in common--though, admittedly, the bulk of their synchronicity seemed to be astonishment at what Harry didn't know.

Only once Harry had a pile of Chocolate Frog cards stacked up carefully at his side did he turn his attention back to the bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that he'd handed Delphi earlier. She returned it to him gladly, and Harry plucked out a bean.

With a surprising degree of nonchalance, Harry popped a tan-colored bean into his mouth and chewed. Then he stopped, eyes widening in concern. "What flavor is brown supposed to be?"

Ron and Delphi exchanged a look. "Er, I dunno," said Ron. "You want to be careful with Bertie Bott's. When they say every flavor, they _mean_ every flavor. You know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once." While Delphi gave him a disgusted look--one that Harry matched as he swallowed the bean in his mouth with apparent reluctance--Ron picked up a green bean, inspected it, and very daintily bit a corner. His exclamation of disgust made Delphi's stomach churn. "See? Sprouts."

"I think mine was toast," Harry said, but he didn't seem discouraged. He plucked out another bean, this time a milky white. "Coconut," he said after a moment.

They went on like that for a while, one of them popping a bean into their mouth and exclaiming its flavor in either relief or revulsion. Delphi counted herself lucky. She got onion, bacon, lemon, peppermint, salmon, lettuce, peanut, egg, and something very spicy that she thought must have been some exotic pepper; none of them were especially tasty, but at least none of them were _booger_.

Delphi had quite lost track of time by the end of it, and she truly couldn't believe how much fun she was having with these two boys. Getting along with Harry Potter was one thing, and surely she was well on her way to befriending him. But getting along this well with a Weasley boy... if Madame Lestrange could see her now, Delphi would probably be lucky if she was just disowned.

A knock at the door startled her out of her fretting. A round-faced boy--clearly a first year--stepped into their compartment, his eyes filled with tears.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

Delphi bit her lip to keep from laughing; she didn't think either Harry or Ron would take too kindly to hearing her mock this toad-owning boy, no matter how out of style toads were. Across from her, the boys shook their heads.

"I've lost him!" wailed Toad Boy. "He keeps getting away from me."

 _That's a good thing, isn't it?_ Delphi thought to herself, but Harry's own response was kind. "He'll turn up," he said reassuringly.

Toad Boy looked utterly miserable, just as one should be when told their toad would be returned to them. "Yes, well, if you see him..."

After the boy had gone, Ron cast a skeptical glance in Harry's direction. "Don't know why he's so bothered. If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could." (Again, Delphi couldn't believe that she had _anything_ in common with a Weasley.) "Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk. He might've died and you wouldn't know the difference."

He looked like he was about to say more, but he snapped his jaw shut again with a quick glance in Delphi's direction. A moment later, Toad Boy returned. At his side stood a bossy-looking girl with buck teeth and wildly bushy brown hair. Like Delphi, this girl was already in her Hogwarts robes; none of the boys had yet bothered to change.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" the girl asked in a snooty voice. "Neville's lost one."

Ron gave the pair a look verging on disgust, which Delphi appreciated. "We're already told him we haven't seen it."

"Well, that's no reason to be _rude_. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. Who are you?"

"I'm Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

"And I'm--"

"Are you really?" interrupted Hermione, now looking at Harry with a much more impressed expression than before. "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

Harry looked stunned by this particular revelation. Apparently, it came as a surprise to him that the only known survivor of the Killing Curse might be of some interest to the world.

"Goodness," Hermione exclaimed, "didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me. Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor. It sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..."

Annoyed at her inability to get a word in edgewise, Delphi leaped at this opportunity. "As I was saying," she said rather snidely, "I'm Delphini. And I guarantee I'll be in Slytherin."

Ron's eyes narrowed as Hermione frowned slightly. "Oh. Well, I suppose Slytherin can't be as bad as its reputation implies. If it were really such a breeding ground for Dark wizards, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would've abolished it by now."

" _Abolished it?_ " Delphi repeated, horrified. "A Headmaster can't just throw away over a thousand years of wizarding history because society disapproves of Slytherin values!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Delphi watched Ron mouth _Slytherin values_ in apparent disbelief. But Delphi's attention was on Hermione as the latter girl went on, "I can't say I think much of those so-called values. For your information, nobody in my family's magic at all. It was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, and I'm quite looking forward to proving myself."

 _A Mudblood_ , Delphi realized. This bossy, bushy, buck-toothed brat was a _Mudblood. Great._ "Good luck with that."

Hermione attempted a glare, then seemed to think better of it. "We'd better go and look for Neville's toad."

Grabbing Toad Boy's hand, Hermione flounced from the compartment. Delphi felt like she could breathe again. But when she turned back to the boys, she was surprised to find both of them looking at her with varying degrees of disapproval. Ron looked outright sickened; Harry, though, might have been merely confused.

"What'd you say your surname was?" asked Ron.

"Lestrange."

Ron's expression darkened further. "I know that name. Your parents are in Azkaban, aren't they?"

"Azkaban?" asked Harry.

"The wizarding prison," explained Ron. "It's where Dark wizards like Sirius Black and the Lestranges are put away." He glared at Delphi. "Your parents were Death Eaters."

Harry looked only more lost; with she and Ron glaring at each other, she could only just see the confused furrow of Harry's brow in her periphery. "Death Eaters?"

"You-Know-Who's supporters. Dark wizards. Pureblood supremacists. _Slytherins._ " Ron spat the last word like a curse.

This was it. If Delphi said what she wanted to say, if she told this sodding Weasley to shove it up his arse the way she ought, she'd lose any chance of getting Harry Potter on her side. "I've never even met my parents, Ron. Whatever they were, it's got nothing to do with me."

"Who raised you, then? _You_ clearly weren't sent off to live with Muggles."

Not even in her worst nightmares. "I grew up with my aunt and uncle. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."

Ron made a scathing noise. "I've heard of them, too. They were on You-Know-Who's side--some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. But Dad doesn't believe it. He says Mr. Malfoy didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

Delphi's hands curled into fists in her lap, but she managed to keep her head. "I don't care what your dad thinks of Uncle Lucius. If he says he was bewitched, then he was bewitched."

It was a blatant lie, of course. She could still hear Madame Lestrange's voice in her mind: _The Dark Lord's mission was a worthy one._ She knew damn well that the Malfoys agreed. Ronald Weasley, however, did _not_ need to know that.

"And even if he is lying," she went on in a quiet voice, "the Dark Lord was dead by the time I was toddling. Whatever happened in the war--whoever was with him or against him--it's got nothing to do with me." She glanced at Harry. "Besides, do you think I'd be hanging out with Harry Potter if I was some kind of junior Death Eater? Please."

Ron's glare didn't so much waver as shift very slightly into a more speculative (but no less unfriendly) expression, and beside him, Harry looked truly desperate to change the subject. "What house are your brothers in?" he blurted to Ron, who blinked in such obvious bewilderment that Delphi wondered if he'd somehow forgotten Harry was even there.

"Gryffindor," he said, frowning now. "Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin." He said this last bit with another unsubtle glare at Delphi.

"Were all of the--what did you call them, Death Eaters?--were they all in Slytherin?"

"Every one I know of," said Ron.

"That doesn't mean anything," protested Delphi. "There are tons of Slytherins who never had anything to do with the Dark Lord. Some who even opposed him, I'm sure!"

"Like who?"

Delphi flushed. "Well, I don't know _names_ ; how could I? If you were a Slytherin working against the Dark Lord, would you be spreading that around? You'd want to keep it secret."

"But it's been ten years--plenty of time to come forward. And they would've been heroes. So where are they? Nowhere! Because they don't exist." He shook his head. "Nobody decent gets stuck in Slytherin. I'd cross your fingers for Ravenclaw if I were you. Or Hufflepuff, considering who your parents were. Show everyone you're nice and nonthreatening."

She stared at him in disbelief, her mouth hanging open as she tried to come up with _something_ to say to that appalling suggestion. But Harry, again, seemed desperate to turn them away from a fight. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left Hogwarts, anyway?" he asked, his voice a bit higher than before.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts." Ron's expression lifted. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_ , but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles. Someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Delphi had heard as much; she hadn't paid it any mind. Harry, however, looked stunned. "Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Delphi scoffed. "Seriously?" She hadn't heard this particular rumor. "Why in the world would the Dark Lord break into Gringotts? Especially since the so-called thief didn't actually steal anything. What would be the point of that?"

"I dunno, that's just what people always worry. It's weird, though, isn't it? Like I said, my brother works for Gringotts, and he's told me plenty about how those goblins protect the place. For someone to break in and not get caught... I agree with my dad."

Unfurling her fists, Delphi crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, I don't," she said. "Gringotts is supposed to be impenetrable. Who's to say this isn't just a hoax? Or maybe a goblin did it, and they didn't catch whoever it was because the others are covering it up?"

Ron shook his head. "The goblins take the bank too seriously for that. They'd have no problem snitching, if one of them had done it." He turned back to Harry. "So, what's your Quidditch team?"

Harry seemed as startled as Delphi by this abrupt change in conversation. "Er--I don't know any," he confessed.

"What!" Delphi rolled her eyes; did Ron expect that Muggles were great followers of magic sport? "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world!" Entirely upon his own prompting, Ron launched into a vastly overenthusiastic explanation of Quidditch, which Harry seemed unreasonably fascinated by. It went on and on, as utterly and completely boring as any of Draco's attempts to get Delphi interested in the sport had ever been--and speak of the serpent-tongue, there he was.

Through the glass door of the compartment, Delphi caught sight of the unmistakable outline of her cousin. Draco stood in the corridor beyond, flanked on either side by the hulking (for eleven-year-olds, at least) brutes she recognized as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. She tensed at the sight of them-- _suffering Salazar, he's going to catch me hanging out with a Weasley_ \--and then, before she could do a thing to stop it, the three of them opened the door and stepped inside.

"We meet again, Potter," said Draco. He nodded toward the two boys flanking him. "This is Crabbe and Goyle. I see you've found Delphi. Or she found you." He turned his attention to Ron. "And you're clearly a Weasley. What you're doing here, I'll never guess; clearly, my cousin has lost her mind." With an air of imperiousness, Draco looked down his nose at Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Delphi watched with bated breath as Draco held his hand out to Harry. In the single instant before it happened, she knew that she was about to watch his rejection; Draco had insulted Ron, and that would surely be a step too far.

Harry did not take Draco's hand. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

Draco blushed very faintly--just a pink tinge upon his pale white cheeks. He glanced at Delphi, then at Ron, and then turned back to Harry. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Delphi winced as Ron and Harry both shot to their feet in outrage. "Say that again!" growled Ron. His face had gone completely scarlet.

Draco, for what it was worth, didn't seem even slightly intimidated. "Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?"

"Of course not--" started Delphi, but Harry's voice cut off her placation.

"Unless you get out now," he threatened, and Delphi's brows lifted. Surely he didn't think he could take on both of Draco's ridiculous bodyguard 'friends'? And yet he sounded so unwavering, so utterly sure, so foolishly brave. Draco didn't exactly look impressed, but Delphi certainly was.

She tried to hide it, though, as Draco turned to her. "Well, actually, this is my compartment. That trunk and that owl cage? Those are mine. And that's my cousin you're sitting with, by the way, who should know better than to invite filthy little blood traitors like you to sit down."

"Draco--" Delphi tried, but in that moment, Goyle moved forward--not to attack but to steal. He reached toward the pile of chocolate frogs still sitting on the bench seat that Ron had just vacated--and then bellowed in pain and confusion.

Startled, Delphi didn't know what had happened--accidental magic, she thought perhaps, and wondered vaguely which of them had done it--but then she saw a gray blur near Goyle's fleshy hand and recognized the furry figure of Ron's rat, Scabbers. He hung by his teeth from Goyle's flesh, and as the enormous schoolboy tried to free himself, Draco and Crabbe backed into the safety of the corridor. Delphi blinked, heard the thump of flesh against a pane of glass that meant Scabbers had been throw into the window, and just barely saw Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle fleeing down the train.

"What _has_ been going on?" came the last voice Delphi wanted to hear right now--a voice she'd thought herself well rid of.

Hermione Granger was suddenly standing in the doorway, looking more than a little peeved. Her gaze roved the compartment; there were sweets all over the floor, and Ron was prodding his limp rat.

"Is it alright?" Delphi asked. She'd always quite liked animals, and this one had just gotten into her good graces.

"I think he's been knocked out," said Ron. He lifted the thing by its tail--earning a disapproving scowl from Delphi--and took a closer look. "No, I don't believe it; he's gone back to sleep!" Shaking his head as he returned to his seat, Ron dropped the rat onto the cushion beside him. "You've met Malfoy before, then, Harry?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "In Diagon Alley. Delphi, too."

"We ran into each other in Madam Malkin's."

In the doorway, Hermione cleared her throat. "You'd better hurry up and put your robes on. I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we ever get there!"

As if that was any of her business! Delphi liked this girl less and less every time she opened her mouth. _Of course_ a Mudblood would be this insufferable; she could just imagine the girl harassing the conductor. Who did she think she was?

"Scabbers has been fighting," said Ron. He scowled at Hermione. "Now go away while we get on our robes."

Hermione sniffed haughtily. "All right. I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors. And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

She spun on her heel and stalked off, and as she did so, Delphi wondered if it would be possible to lock the compartment door. As she didn't see a lock, she rather doubted it; still, her fingers stroked her wand consideringly.

"I don't need to leave while you change, do I?" Delphi asked, turning back to the boys. "You don't actually have to strip."

Ron shook his head, and Delphi waited, just a bit awkwardly, as the two of them donned their school robes. Ron's were a bit too short for him, no doubt handed down from some other brother.

As the boys sank back into their seats, a disembodied voice echoed through the air: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately."

Delphi broke into a wide grin, though she was the only one. Harry and Ron both looked pale and anxious at this announcement, apparently much more nervous at the thought of their arrival than Delphi. She could hardly contain her excitement, fidgeting once again with her wand as the two boys gathered up the sweets scattered around their seat. Once they had crammed it all into the pockets of their long black robes, they rose to their feet and, with Delphi leading the way, emerged into the corridor beyond their compartment. Thankfully, neither Hermione Granger nor Draco was anywhere to be found in the throng of other students.

As the train slowed to a stop, the crowd moved like an unstoppable wave toward the nearest door. Delphi and her new-found almost-friends emerged onto a tiny, dark platform. Night had fallen by then, bringing with it the crisp chill of autumn air. In the distance, the light of a lantern bobbed high above the students' heads.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" cried a gruff but booming voice. As the lamp approached, Delphi glimpsed its holder: it was Hagrid, giant of a man that she and Draco had seen outside of Madam Malkin's. "Alright there, Harry?" he called out, a broad smile parting his massive beard as he nodded toward the boy at Delphi's side. "C'mon, follow me! Any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years, follow me!"

A smaller crowd broke from the masses, younger students emerging from between their older, much taller peers like frightened fawns stepping out of the brush. All around her, Delphi could see pale faces, wide eyes, jittery limbs--everyone seemed so _scared_. She didn't understand this, either. Hogwarts was not frightening; Hogwarts was their future. As she and the other first years followed Hagrid down a steep and narrow path toward the castle, Delphi couldn't shake the feeling that she'd finally made it home.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder. "Jus' round this bend here."

Gasps, oohs, and aahs whispered through the crowd as the narrow path finally escaped the forest surrounding it; the students stood upon the edge of a great black lake at the other side of which stood a high mountain--and at its peak, a sight that made Delphi's heart swell with indescribable emotion. It was an undeniably gorgeous, ancient castle, vast and sprawling with too many towers and turrets than one could count in the darkness. Its windows sparkled in the starlight, beckoning its yearly new arrivals. Delphi stared up at it in awed silence, quite unable to put into a single word what she was either thinking or feeling. It was love at first sight.

"No more'n four to a boat!"

Hagrid's voice jarred her from her silent worship, and only when she followed the direction of his massive, pointing hand did she notice the fleet of rowboats waiting at the shore. Delphi followed very closely behind Harry and Ron as they claimed their boat and clambered in after them without giving them the hint of a chance to turn her away; as soon as she was seated, she turned back to the shore to watch Hermione Granger stop short, turn away from their boat, and stomp off toward a different one. Toad Boy--Neville--had been left in her wake and now looked confused; after a moment, he mustered his courage. Neville took the seat beside Delphi; she wondered vaguely if she would be forced to befriend this loser, too. Whatever it took, she supposed.

Hagrid, massive as he was, took up an entire boat all his own. "Everyone in? Right then. FORWARD!"

Off went the boats, gliding so smoothly over the black surface of the lake that it looked like glass below them. Delphi reached down, her fingers skimming the cool water as the boat sailed magically on. No one spoke, each student simply staring in either anticipation or trepidation at the castle that lay before them. It loomed over them, their boats taking them straight toward the cliff upon which it had been built.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yelled, and the foremost of the boats disappeared through a curtain of ivy, no doubt into a cave entrance that hid beyond. Harry, Ron, and Neville ducked, but Delphi kept her head held high; she watched the ivy part around Harry and Ron's bodies, then reached forward and parted it for herself. It felt soft against the palms of her hands. Welcoming.

Down, they drifted, along a tunnel so dark that if not for the light of Hagrid's lantern, they would have been in pitch blackness, unable to see their hands in front of their faces. And then, finally, they were there, in a tiny little harbor built upon the cavern's rocky shore. Little pebbles crunched beneath their shoes as they all stepped carefully from their boats. Neville had to go back for his toad, which she could only assume he was _trying_ to lose at this point, but Delphi paid him little mind; she was already heading toward the only visible passageway in the cavern, and Hagrid gave her a funny look as his gargantuan legs carried him quickly past her to the front of the crowd.

Hagrid led them on through the rock tunnel until finally it opened up onto the castle's grassy lawn. Before them stretched a flight of steps carved in stone, and at the end of it towered an enormous, oak door.

"Everyone here?" Hagrid yelled. "You there, still got yer toad?" He raised a fist and knocked thrice upon the door, and if someone didn't open it immediately, Delphi knew very well that she was going to drop dead from anticipation.

And then the door parted, and Hogwarts opened itself to its newest guests.

Delphi found herself staring up at a tall, black-haired witch in emerald green robes. "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid to the woman, who nodded curtly.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

With a stern expression, the professor ushered them inside. The entrance hall was enormous, easily outstripping any of the rooms in Malfoy Manor. Flaming torches upon the stone walls cast the room in the warm, orange light of flickering flames. Looking upward, Delphi could not see the ceiling; looking forward, she was impressed by the sight of a magnificent marble staircase. She had barely seen any of it, but Hogwarts was already living up to her expectations.

Across the flagged stone floor, the children marched in procession after Professor McGonagall. From a door to the right came the buzz of conversation; the older students must have been gathered within. Rather than joining them, however, the professor led the first years into another, much smaller chamber into which they crowded rather uncomfortably. Still, everyone seemed so nervous, but Delphi couldn't keep the smile from her lips.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall in her unmistakably Scottish voice. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you will all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I will return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

She departed the chamber, leaving behind a restless group of children not remotely inclined toward being quiet.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" asked Harry. He seemed to have gone very slightly green.

"Some sort of test, I think," answered Ron. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Delphi stared at him for a moment, then blurted, "Of course your brother was joking. Sorting isn't a test."

For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "What is it, then, if you're so smart?"

"You've never heard of the Hogwarts Sorting Hat?" she asked disbelievingly. "It's extraordinarily famous. Not only does it Sort every single British witch and wizard into their house, but it's also a relic of one of the founds. It belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself! Coming from a family of Gryffindors, I would've thought you'd known."

Ron's ears went bright red. "I didn't--"

His protests were cut off by not one but several screams; Harry practically jumped out of his skin, and Delphi spun to find that their little room suddenly had about twenty more occupants than before--not that they took up any extra space. Translucent and pearly-white, they were ghosts; having floated straight through the wall, they hardly seemed to notice that they'd come across the living (and scared the daylights out of a few, by the look of it). Until--

"I say, what are you all doing here?" asked a ghost in an old-fashioned ruff, suddenly staring at the diminutive crowd.

Delphi looked about; no one seemed prepared to answer. "Waiting," she said simply, eying the dead man curiously. She'd never seen a ghost before, though she'd read plenty about them. She wondered if it would be rude to launch immediately into questions about the quality of their unlife.

"New students!" exclaimed the ghost of a fat little monk, and he beamed at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

Delphi and a few others nodded; the rest looked too frightened to respond. Delphi was still debating how to politely ask her questions when McGonagall returned. "Move along now," she said sharply to the spectral horde. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." As the ghosts departed, floating right through the wall, McGonagall turned her attention to the students. "Now, form a line and follow me."

They did as they were bid. Much though Delphi would've preferred to be as near the front as possible, she felt it was more important to stay close to Harry. She felt into line just ahead of him, behind a boy with sandy hair; behind Harry came Ron, and then Hermione Granger.

Out of the little room, they marched; they crossed the hall; and then--

Beyond a pair of double doors lie a room every bit as magical as Delphi had dreamed that Hogwarts would be. It was enormous, filled with what she immediately recognized as the four long tables were the houses were seated; above them floated thousands upon thousands of warmly glowing candles, their orange light flickering across the faces of the students watching the first years with idle curiosity, and high above it all was the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, which Delphi knew (as well as Hermione Granger, apparently) to be enchanted to look like the night sky. In front of each student, the table had been set with glittering golden plates, goblets, and utensils. And facing them all was the high table where the teachers sat.

It was toward here that Professor McGonagall led them. Their procession came to a halt facing the other students rather than the teachers, and Delphi felt the faintest hint of discomfort at the realization of just how public the Sorting would be. But she steeled herself immediately; she knew where she was going, knew where she wanted to go, and knew that she would find her home there. There was absolutely no reason to be frightened.

McGongall placed a stool before them, and then, there it was. A raggedly old hat, patched and frayed and in need of an extremely thorough cleaning, it was as equally hard to believe that such a thing could have survived the past one thousand years as it was to believe that it had been allowed to fall into this condition. But as the hat began to sing, a rip near its brim opening like a ludicrous mouth, Delphi's mild outrage fled from her mind.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be."

Delphi's mind wandered as the hat began describing the houses to the first years (How was this magic performed, she wondered? Did enchanted objects routinely last through the centuries like this? Surely the hat wasn't a goblin-made artifact...), until, at least, she heard it sing-shout the word, "Slytherin."

"You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

As the older students and the teachers applauded this rendition, the hat bowed (as best a hat could). The majority of the first years simply looked confused by this; even Delphi hadn't been expecting a song. Once the applause died out, McGonagall stepped back into focus, unfurling a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name," she said, "you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled her way toward the hat and placed it atop her head as she sank down onto the stool.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The far right table cheered as their newest ninny joined them. The Fat Friar, seated with them, looked delighted.

One by one, the students were called up and Sorted. The next girl, Susan Bones, went to Hufflepuff, as well, but the first boy, Terry Boot, went to Ravenclaw. So did Mandy Brocklehurst, and then Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor, which sent the far-left table into an even louder outburst than either of the other houses. A very Crabbe-and-Goyle-esque girl by the name of Millicent Bullstrode became the first Slytherin; Delphi didn't look forward to sharing a dormitory with such an unfriendly looking person, but she wasn't about to complain, either. She didn't want to jinx herself.

Justin Finch-Fletchley went to Hufflepuff; Seamus Finnigan, to Gryffindor. Hermione Granger, too, was sorted into Gryffindor, though the hat took a particularly long time with her; perhaps, Delphi thought viciously, it had been considering whether she deserved to be at the school in the first place.

Then-- _finally!_ \--

"Lestrange, Delphini!"

Trying her hardest to keep the smirk off her face now that everyone's eyes were on her, Delphi approached the stool whereupon the hat waited for her. She grabbed the hat, lifted it to her crown, felt the barest brush of it against her hair, and--

"SLYTHERIN!"

Her heart soared. Now, she didn't bother hiding her smirk. She placed the hat back onto the stool and started toward the Slytherin table, where such wining personalities as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle sat waiting for her. She winked at Harry as she passed him, and she crossed her fingers inside her pocket as she made a wish that he would soon be joining her.

As Delphi sat down at the Slytherin table alongside her fellow first year girls--Millicent Bullstrode, Tracey Davis, and Daphne Greengrass, so far--she watched Neville get sorted, quite shockingly, into not Hufflepuff but Gryffindor; apparently, the bar for entry there had been vastly lowered this particular year. And even this relative honor, Neville managed to muck; he ran off toward his new peers with the Sorting Hat still perched atop his head, and he was forced to return sheepishly to the front to pass it off to the next student. All around Delphi, derisive laughter roared.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Delphi watched her cousin swagger toward the stool, and he too barely got the hat upon his head before it was screaming, "SLYTHERIN!" into the Hall. As he joined the table, she made room for him to sit on the bench beside her... And her face fell as he went instead to sit with Crabbe and Goyle.

Names went past too slowly for Delphi's liking. She watched with mild interest as Theodore Nott joined the Slytherins; she'd heard of his family, and given the conversation she'd had with Madame Lestrange last summer, she needed to know as much about the pureblood boys at the school as it was possible to know. Anything could be a useful tool in keeping her grandmother from trying to marry her off to one of them.

"Potter, Harry!"

Delphi's attention was riveted to the front now, her gaze unwaveringly affixed upon Harry as whispers overtook the Hall. If he had been nervous before, now Harry looked truly terrified, and Delphi felt a pang of pity in her chest. The world must truly feel so overwhelming for him, now that he was finally freed from those horrible Muggles. No wonder he was so afraid.

Just as it had been with Hermione Granger, the hat remained silent for a long time. _Slytherin, please!_ Delphi begged.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

 _What had she been expecting?_ , Delphi wondered as she slumped dejectedly in her seat. A glance in Draco's direction proved that he'd noticed her disappointment; he raised a brow toward her in an unmistakable 'told you so' expression, and Delphi turned away. She should've tried harder on the train to build up Slytherin for Harry, should have kept him away from people like Ron and Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, should have convinced Draco to be less abrasive and more charismatic in his attempt to sway Harry toward their side. She cursed her past self, and she doubted now that she had any chance of winning this particular bet. Surely in Gryffindor, Harry Potter would be lost to her forever.

As the deafening cheer of the Gryffindors finally subsided, Delphi watched with disinterest as the last of the first years were sorted. Ron Weasley got what he wanted and joined his brothers--and _Harry_ \--and once Blaise Zabini joined Slytherins, the sorting was done. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll, and a wave of her wand sent both the Sorting Hat and its stool away.

Delphi watched as Albus Dumbledore, the wizened, white-haired wizard at the center of the staff table, rose to his feet with an enormous, welcoming smile. He held his arms wide as if to embrace them all. "Welcome!" Frail though he appeared, his voice carried through the Hall with ease. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Everyone but the Slytherins seemed delighted by this bit of nonsense from their Headmaster. Delphi couldn't exactly pretend it amused her very much, either, but she was a bit surprised by the open disgust apparent on some of the faces around her. Surely it would be wiser to hide such disdain, if one felt it? Whatever else he was, Dumbledore was still the Headmaster, after all. But as the dishes in front of her filled themselves with a proper feast, she turned her mind from her worries; surely the older students knew better than she what one could get away with at Hogwarts, after all.

As she piled her plate with all she cared to eat, Delphi listened idly to the conversations going on around her. The three other Slytherin first year girls had been joined by yet another shortly after Delphi's own addition; this girl was Pansy Parkinson, who might have been quite pretty if not for the unfortunate resemblance between her upturned nose and a pig's snout. She had more than enough personality to make up for her meager looks, however. As soon as the food had arrived, she'd launched into such a definitively-voiced conversation that the other girls seemed to be pulled in despite themselves. Delphi, quite content to eavesdrop, listened as each of them tried to outdo the others; Parkinson seemed to think that she was more rich and noble-blooded than the rest of them put together, which Delphi knew quite well was ridiculous. The Parkinsons might have been part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight once upon a time, but so where the Lestranges, the Greengrasses, and the Bulstrodes. Among the girls, in fact, only Lily Moon and Tracey Davis's ancestry could be called into question--something that Pansy seemed to realize almost at the same moment as Delphi did.

"Davis," Pansy said in a very unpleasant tone of voice. "That name doesn't ring a bell. Who're your parents, Davis?"

"Not Muggles, if that's what your implying," said Tracey coldly. "My parents both work at the Ministry, and I'll thank you to butt out."

Pansy scoffed maliciously. "I wasn't implying anything, though it's very interesting where your mind jumped, isn't it? I'm sure your parents weren't Muggles, of course, they don't let--" She lowered her voice to a vicious whisper as she said the next word. "-- _Mudbloods_ into Slytherin. But half-bloods, those sneak in."

"That's because there's hardly any purebloods left, Parkinson," Tracey hissed. "You lot are dying out left and right, aren't you? Look at your precious Twenty-Eight. The Gaunts are already gone, the Weasleys and the Longbottoms are blood traitors, and the last of the Blacks is going to die in Azkaban. You mark my words, within the next two generations, the definition of 'pureblood' will start to loosen up a little, once everyone starts to realize there aren't enough children left to marry off without you all ending up so inbred you can't see straight."

Pansy looked shocked, but the expression quickly vanished in favor of disgust and outrage. "Leave if to a half-blood. Blood purity is blood purity, there's no loosening the definition. You're either pure, or you're not."

"Please," said Davis. "Bloodlines aren't being so strictly cultivated anymore, I'm sure you know that. It's barely even socially acceptable anymore for a husband to subject his wife's pregnancy to a paternity spell! Now, it's taken for granted that if she says her baby's his--that it's pure--then it is." She laughed. "Who knows how many so-called purebloods sitting at this very table are the secret descendants of Mudbloods and Muggles. Quite a number, I'd wager."

Pansy gave a half-shriek of outrage at this. She seemed to have taken it as a person insult, her face going very red as she glared at the other girl. Delphi tried to tune them out; the last thing she wanted was to be pulled into such a foolish debate.

Her gaze wandered the table, spying for anything more interesting to focus her attention upon. A ways away, she spotted Draco; he had taken a seat beside his trollish friends, but Delphi was pleased to find him looking quite uncomfortable about his seat--though she envied him the reason: the Bloody Baron, the blood-stained and chain-adorned ghost of Slytherin house, sat at his side. Vaguely, she wondered if it might be best to leave her current seat in favor of squeezing between her cousin and the ghost, but she suspected that drawing attention to herself that way wouldn't be the wisest of ideas.

Her heart sank just a little bit as she realized what exactly this meant for her. Already, she was trying to avoid these girls, and yet what had McGonagall said? These four were supposed to be her family here, a notion which made her quite suddenly question the sensibility of taking advice from an ancient, talking hat. What had she in common with these girls, she wondered? So far, she couldn't see it. And yet she'd been sorted with them all the same.

Delphi's eyes turned toward the high table where the teachers sat. She recognized Dumbledore, Hagrid, and McGongall, but there were plenty of others whom she didn't know. Quirrell in his ridiculous turban was unmistakable, but the hook-nosed and sallow-faced teacher talking to him was a stranger to her; nor did she know the names of the tiny wizard who could barely see over the table, the portly witch at his side, or the sole ghost that gleamed like the moon nearby. She couldn't wait to get to know all of them, couldn't wait to learn every single thing that they could teacher, and above all couldn't even wait for the feast to end. Much though it was spectacular, it suddenly felt like nothing more than a distraction. An ample waste of precious time.

Dinner faded into dessert as the conversations of the students droned on all around her. Then, finally, dessert too was over, and Delphi turned eagerly once more toward the Headmaster. The sooner she got to sleep, the sooner tomorrow would be here.

The Hall fell silent as Dumbledore rose to his feet. He cleared his throat. "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered," he said in that strangely powerful but gentle voice. "I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." He looked toward the Gryffindor table as he said this; Delphi wasn't surprised. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

A few people laughed. Delphi did not. She waited for Dumbledore to go on, for him to clarify the vastly worrying statement that he'd just made to them... but he did not.

"And now," he finished, "bedtime. Off you trot!"

A great clattering filled the room as students began to rise all across the tables. "First years with me!" barked the snappish voice of a Slytherin prefect, and Delphi quickly abandoned her seat in favor of following the boy. He was a very tall, auburn-haired teenager of at least fifteen or sixteen years, and he affixed her with a sneer as she rushed up to join him. He said nothing, though, and barely even waited to make sure that the others were coming before he turned on his heel and started off. "First years!" he shouted again. "Follow me! I won't wait for you!"

And he didn't. He walked fast and purposefully; he obviously knew the route by heart. Never once pausing to make sure that his little trail of ducklings was still behind him, he strode from the Great Hall and then took them on a winding path through door after door after hidden door. They went down staircases; twice, the boy very deliberately avoided stepping upon a particular spot, and Delphi mimicked his actions without prompting; more than twice, she heard someone behind her give a grunt of pain or a gasp as they failed to avoid whatever trick the boy had neglected to explain.

It went on. As they walked, the air around them grew colder, and Delphi realized that it meant they must be underground. They were in the dungeons, she remembered; the Slytherin House common room was in the dungeons. She wondered if this placement was meant as an insult. Perhaps in Salazar Slytherin's time, his students had been given a better home.

The prefect at the head of their procession came to a halt in front of a stretch of bare stone wall; like the floor beneath their feet, it was slightly damp. Could they be beneath the lake, Delphi wondered? Was that even safe? "Parseltongue," the prefect said to the wall, and as the hidden door slid open, Delphi's thoughts wandered to the little snake hidden in her luggage. She hoped Boros was alright; she didn't know what the teachers might do to him if he had been caught.

The Slytherin common room didn't yet feel like home to her, but it certainly looked like it. Rough stone walls made up a long room that seemed an odd overlap between palace and cave. Greenish lamps hung from the low ceiling, casting the room in an almost sickly light that mingled with the blazing illumination of the fire burning beneath the ornate mantelpiece. High-backed black chairs, looking far more splendid than comfortable, encircled the hearth, but they stood empty for now; Delphi supposed that on the first night of the year, most students were eager to get up to their dormitories and either make themselves at home--or get some much-needed sleep. She yawned, well aware of her own increasingly desperate desire to go to bed.

"Your dorms are over there," said the prefect quite dismissively. "Boys on the left, girls on the right." He paused a moment, then quirked a brow at the still-waiting crowd. " _Well_? I'm not going to hold your hand!"

They all shuffled off, Delphi leading the way. The door on the right lead to a small, circular room; in the dim light, she could see seven different doors embedded in the dark stone. Above each was a glittering green number between one and seven, and she eagerly pushed open the door beneath the one.

Five beds, each a beautiful four-poster with emerald green sheets and heavy black curtains, filled the little room. At the foot of each bed sat a trunk; atop several of these sat empty bird cages. The owls themselves were now resting elsewhere in the castle, Delphi assumed. She made her way toward what she immediately recognized as her own trunk, and as the other girls filed into the room behind her, she opened the lid and smiled as Boros peered up at her, his forked tongue flicking out to taste the air.

" _It's about time_ ," he hissed to her, but Delphi put a finger to her lips to hush him. She couldn't speak yet, not while the other girls were awake. In the meantime, she let Boros curl around her wrist and slither up beneath her sleeve before she shut her trunk once more with a resounding _clunk_. She turned--

\--and was startled to find herself face-to-face with another girl. Daphne Greengrass had her hand outstretched, an expectant look on her face.

"You're Delphini Lestrange," said Daphne, as if she thought Delphi might've forgotten. "I'm Daphne Greengrass; I'm surprised we haven't already met."

Delphi shook her hand; Boros practically radiated his displeasure as she jostled him up and down. "A pleasure to meet you," she said, hoping her voice didn't betray how little she cared.

Daphne looked satisfied. "You were quiet at the feast tonight," she observed. "Why weren't you with Draco?"

Delphi's eyes narrowed very slightly. _None of your damn business, _she thought, as she said, "We've had a bit of a row. Nothing serious. I'm sure we'll both apologize in the morning and everything will be back to normal. For tonight, though, I'd quite like to get to bed; I'm exhausted."__

__But even as Daphne retreated, Pansy Parkinson rushed forward to fill the gap. Rather than holding out her hand for Delphi to shake, she reached out and seized her hand in a travesty of the gesture. Delphi ripped her limb back as soon as she could._ _

__"Pansy Parkinson," said the pug-nosed girl, casting a rather nasty glance in Daphne's direction. The latter girl rolled her eyes and strode off toward her own bed. "We're going to be best friends."_ _

__Now _that_ came as quite the surprise to her. "Are we?" Delphi asked. Making a show of rifling through her trunk while undeniably eavesdropping, Tracey Davis snickered._ _

__Pansy's lips curled into the beginnings of a sneer. "Absolutely," she pressed on. "The Parkinsons and the Lestranges go way back." (They didn't, as far as Delphi knew.) "And everyone knows your parents were spectacular wizards." (Delphi rather doubted this, too, considering where they'd been for the past ten years.) "I think you'll find that we have a lot to offer each other."_ _

__Delphi eyed Pansy with dawning comprehension. Pansy thought that Delphi had something to offer her, and Delphi had a sneaking suspicion that the something in question might actually be a pale-haired, perfectly pureblooded someone from a particularly desirable bloodline. Now _this_ was a girl whom Madame Lestrange would be pleased to call her granddaughter._ _

__"Do you?" Delphi asked delicately. "All I'm in need of at the moment is a good night's rest, so if you'd like to offer me that..." She turned toward her bed, taking a certain pleasure in the mingled snickers of both Daphne and Tracey as she pulled the curtains very definitively shut._ _

__Once nestled away in her own space, Delphi dropped herself onto the mattress and let out a heavy sigh. Hogwarts, she knew, would be amazing; sharing a room with other girls would _not_. Still, she wasn't about to let herself get pushed around by the likes of Pansy Parkinson. Her space and her time were hers alone, and she would be the only one who got to choose how she would be spending it and with whom._ _

__Boros wriggled out of her sleeve and curled up on her pillow. She disrobed quickly, yawning as her limbs began to grow heavy with sleep, and she didn't bother changing into her dressing gown before she slipped beneath the covers--retrieving it would mean facing the other girls again, and she'd had quite enough of them tonight. In the morning, she could deal with her first foray into Slytherin house politics, starting with her reconciliation with Draco. After she had him back firmly on her side, then she would deal with the girls. If Harry Potter had been lost to her, the least she would have to do was make sure that she found herself at the top of the pecking order for her year._ _

__Maybe she would pit Daphne and Pansy against each other. There could be a certain amusement to be found in that..._ _


	4. Invent and Reinvent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "People who cannot invent and reinvent themselves must be content with borrowed postures, secondhand ideas, fitting in instead of standing out." -Warren Bennis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing about the class schedules that Rowling used in the books makes sense. I've been driving myself insane trying to reconcile what we're told with some kind of system that would _even slightly_ work... and, yeah, I'm giving up on that. What Harry relays about his classes makes utterly no sense; for things to work out the way he tells us, either there would have to be extra teachers that we simply never see for every subject _or_ all of the teachers would have to be conducting multiple classes at the same time (which is possible, obviously, but not particularly practical; also, surely someone like Hermione would notice, especially during _Azkaban_ when she's got her own time turner?). Otherwise, there's simply not enough time to fit in everything. So you can expect that both Delphi's schedule in this story and that of the canon characters will not match up with canon details. It's the best solution I could come up with, and I'm sure there are probably errors in the schedule I've chosen to use (particularly for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, I expect), but it should work well enough for the major characters.
> 
> Also, if you want to feel my pain, you need only go so far as [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/harrypotter/comments/45ekhj/hogwarts_professors_deserve_some_serious_respect/) great write-up by some wonderful stranger on Reddit. _What is even going on at Hogwarts?_
> 
> Note that for this chapter, some language is borrowed/adapted from a particular article at [Pottermore](https://www.pottermore.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/potions), as well as several chapters of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_. Of particular note: much of Snape's dialogue and all of Harry's dialogue in the Potions lesson scene is Rowling's.

Delphi was the first to awake the next morning. She'd hardly had any sleep; her mind had been too full of excitement and possibility. She'd tossed and turned and barely dozed, infuriating Boros to the point that he left for greener pastures sometime in the night, and now that she was sure the sun must've risen (not that anyone could see it down there in the dungeons) ( _what kind of school makes children live in the dungeons?_ ), she flung herself out of bed. Rushing into her robes, she departed her dorm only to find the common room beyond it empty; with a twinge of trepidation, she wondered if she could possibly have overslept. She definitely needed to learn a time-telling spell as soon possible.

The bathroom wasn't empty. Grumpy girls of all ages were in various states of frazzled undress as they stood in front of a long row of sinks and mirrors. Water creaked through ancient pipes as several showers ran just around the corner; a toilet flushed within a stall. Some of the older girls had their wands out, casting spells to clean their teeth and brush their hair.

"Does anyone have a spare Menstruaway pad?" someone asked in a very put-upon voice. "The bloody charm's wearing off of mine." The girl laughed at her own pun, but Delphi ignored her. She darted into an unoccupied shower stall, and as she quickly cleaned herself, she vowed too to learn whatever hygiene spells would be necessary to keep her away from this uncomfortably _comfortable_ scene. Sleeping alongside so many other girls would already be a struggle for her; bathing amongst them was many steps too far.

_I'll do that at lunch,_ she decided as she re-robed herself and quickly exited the bathroom. She doubted she'd have time to search the library for the necessary books before breakfast, and she certainly didn't want to be late to her first class.

The Great Hall was filled with the hustle and bustle of excited students. Some still looked rather exhausted, no doubt having slept even worse than Delphi herself had managed. Others, particularly the older students, looked barely above _bored_ as they piled their plates high with eggs and bacon and sausages and glanced disinterestedly at their schedules as the Heads of House passed them around.

Across the hall, Delphi could see Harry Potter sitting beside Ron Weasley at the Gryffindor table--and she wasn't the only one looking. Some people were being subtle about it, but far too many were outright gawking; she felt a hint of annoyance on Harry's behalf.

A platinum-blonde head of hair at the Slytherin table meant that Draco had awoken on time for once in his life; Merlin knew he'd never paid their maths-and-grammar tutor any such consideration back at home. Delphi approached him with a friendly smile placed upon her lips and one eye on the hook-nosed Professor currently distributing schedules to students with a very unfriendly look of his own.

"Morning, Draco," Delphi said as she took the empty spot on the bench beside her cousin.

Draco offered her a look of surprise not remotely genuine. "Can I help you?" he asked coldly.

Her smile faltered. On the other side of Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were watching with disinterest; beyond them, though, Pansy Parkinson's eyes narrowed. "I'm just saying good morning. You're not still angry with me, are you?"

Draco's sneer cut like a knife. They'd fought before, far worse than this, but he'd always forgiven her at the slightest bit of prompting. Why was he so committed to his anger now? "Aren't there any half-bloods or blood traitors wanting your attention?" he asked scathingly. Pansy Parkinson began to smirk. "Or aren't you welcome at the Gryffindor table?"

Delphi's jaw dropped. "What did I do to you?" she asked, bewildered. "It's not my fault that Potter--"

A dark shadow filled her periphery. Delphi looked up to find the hook-nosed teacher towering over her. Her eyes met his; she found herself staring into two deep wells of pure and utter blackness. The hair on the back of Delphi's neck stood on end, and she felt suddenly very cold.

It took her a moment to realize that he was holding a roll of parchment out toward her. Her schedule. Blushing very faintly while not entirely sure what she was actually embarrassed about, Delphi took it from him and muttered her thanks. The teacher swept away without a word.

"I don't think Snape likes you." Draco snickered. "Maybe you _should_ go join the Gryffindors."

Snape... She remembered the name; he was Slytherin's half-blood head of house, as Lucius had told Madame Lestrange. And, she had been assured, he was a friend of the Malfoy family. She didn't remember ever meeting, though. "Has he been to the Manor before?"

"Did hanging around Weasel and Scar Boy ruin your memory as well as your reputation? Father has known Snape since _he_ was at Hogwarts."

The vague outline of a memory was surfacing. She seemed to recall being very little at the dining room table--and very frightened of the scowling, black-haired man sitting at Lucius's side. Had that been him? She couldn't have been more than four or five at the time, and she remembered trying to convince Draco afterward that they'd just eaten with a vampire.

"Wait. What about my reputation?"

But Draco had turned away from her, and he ignored her question entirely. She fiddled with her wand in her pocket, eyes narrowed as she watched him. She should learn some jinxes soon, too, she decided. It seemed that she might have more immediate need of them than she'd hoped.

"Fine," muttered Delphi as she filled her own plate. "Be that way."

As she ate her breakfast in silence, Delphi pondered Draco's attitude with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Things would be harder, she realized, _much_ harder without Draco on her side. The Lestrange name was an old one that commanded a certain respect, but it was also one that had been disgraced by her own parents around the time she'd been born. The Malfoy name bore no such stigma; Draco would have a much easier time navigating Slytherin than she would.

It hadn't occurred to her until now just how much she'd been counting on Draco's allegiance to her. They'd never truly rowed before. They'd had spats, of course, not to mention grudges and schemes and even an actual fight or two. But they'd never fallen out like this before; even when they hated the sight of each other, they'd been practically inseparable. The way Draco was talking now, though... Was he only taunting her? Or did he mean what he'd said? Had she truly ruined her prospects just by talking to Harry Potter and a Weasley? Would Draco really sabotage her just because she'd outperformed him on some stupid bet?

Delphi glanced around at the other girls. None of them were looking at her now, but she knew that they had heard each and every word of what had transpired between her and her cousin. They would know she was without him, and already Delphi could see how that would likely work out for her. Draco would have little competition getting to the top of the heap when it came to the boys, and that would give him power among not only their own class but also everyone who started school for the next seven years. If he wanted her ostracized, he'd have little trouble making sure that she never managed to assume leadership of the girls.

The thought sickened her. Her fork scraped across her plate as she pushed her uneaten eggs around it. She had no interest whatsoever in trying to fight her way to the top of the clique. Either everyone would see her as their natural leader, or else she wouldn't lead them. She wasn't going to _work_ to win anyone's attentions. They weren't worth it. Except, perhaps...

Delphi bit her lip, glancing up in the direction of the Gryffindor table. Harry Potter's influence was worth the influence of any ten Slytherin girls put together. At least. And she'd already made progress with him, hadn't she? She'd thought to give it up now that he'd been sorted into the wrong House, but if her association with him had already ruined her... What did she have to lose by going the rest of the way?

Delphi scanned her schedule. _There._

She stood so abruptly that Draco jumped in his seat, giving her a bewildered glance as she pushed herself from the table and slung her bag over her shoulder. She gave him a cold look as she departed, and she couldn't help but feel that there were eyes upon her as she made her way toward the Gryffindor table.

Harry and Ron were as unmistakable as they'd been earlier, and when she cleared her throat from behind them, they looked as utterly shocked by her interruption as she had been by Professor Snape's.

"What d'you want?" Ron blurted. Several of the older Gryffindors laughed. Percy Weasley was already on his feet, his shrewd Prefect's eyes hawkishly alert to trouble.

Delphi offered up her warmest smile, this one even more winning than the one she'd given Draco. Hopefully it would do a better job. "I'm just saying hello. Don't want you two to forget me just because we've been sorted into different Houses."

"Go away, snake," said a bored-sounding older boy sitting near Percy, but Delphi didn't bother looking at him. He wasn't important.

"I'll save you both a seat in History of Magic later, alight? I hope you're as excited about our first lessons as I am!" She made sure to smile very brightly at Ron, too; she didn't want them to decide she was overly fixated upon Harry. "See you then!"

Delphi heard one of the Weasley twins chuckle as she walked away. "Forward, isn't she?"

* * *

"Harry!"

Delphi was on her feet the moment he entered the room at Ron Weasley's side. Both boys looked startled to hear her voice calling out to them; she didn't fail to notice the side-long glance that Ron gave Harry as she waved them over to the table she'd claimed. If Draco had any good sense, he would've taken the seat there with her, but he had instead joined Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson at a table of their own. As Ron and Harry sat somewhat reluctantly with Delphi, the fourth seat of their table was filled by a rather sheepish-looking Toad Boy, sans toad.

Delphi smiled warmly at him, though she certainly hoped she wouldn't have to be his friend, too. He would no doubt be even worse for her social standing than a blood-traitor like Weasley. "Hello, Harry! Ron. And your name was Neville, right?" Toad Boy nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes round as saucers. "This is my first class of the day; I do hope it's exciting. Have you been to any other classes yet?"

"Herbology," said Harry. "Out in the greenhouses."

"I don't have Herbology until tomorrow morning. Slytherin's with Ravenclaw for that one, I believe. How's Gryffindor treating you boys?"

Ron's eyes narrowed very slightly, as if he thought she might be making a joke at his expense. "Gryffindor's fine. Best House there is."

"I'll take your word for it. Was Herbology very interesting?" Harry shrugged; Ron shook his head; Neville stared at his hands. "Pity. I hope History's good. Do you know anything about the teacher?"

"I heard--"

A collective gasp made Delphi swivel in her chair. A ghost had just swept into the room, making his entrance right through the blackboard. Delphi supposed it made sense. Who better to teach students about the past than someone who was a relic of it themselves?

But as the lesson went on, Delphi's hopes were dashed. Professor Binns, as the ghost introduced himself, spoke in a perpetually bored and profoundly boring drone. He did nothing but lecture, standing--well, floating--at the front of his classroom while he read from notes that likely hadn't been updated since the day he died. Delphi stared at him, her heart sinking in her chest as she realized just how underwhelming her very first class at Hogwarts would prove to be. As she shuffled out of the classroom after the sounding of the bell, Delphi vowed never to waste that hour of her life again. She wasn't likely to learn anything if Professor Binns had his way; she might as well put the time to some more productive use.

As she bid goodbye to Harry and Ron, who swore up and down that they had a class to get to (but who Delphi strongly suspected did not), she headed off toward the library. If she was going to get what she wanted out of her first year, clearly she would have to take matters into her own hands.

* * *

Charms passed uneventfully. The professor, an obvious half-breed by the name of Flitwick, was the Head of Ravenclaw House, the first years of which were paired up with the Slytherins for the class. While Delphi rather disinterestedly practiced the colour-changing charm, she pondered the possibility of trying to befriend the Ravenclaw girls instead of the Slytherin ones. Ravenclaws were no doubt less rigidly hierarchical than Slytherins; perhaps they would be more easily swayed.

At lunch, Delphi tried and failed to seat herself beside the Bloody Baron. When he floated away from her efforts, his spectral chains rattling, she instead took a seat at the very end of the table. Several older students eyed her with a kind of cold, hard curiosity, and she knew what they must be thinking: _that one's alone; can I use her; no, she's probably alone for a good reason; I'm sure she's useless to me_. Delphi was content to let them think so, as it meant no one would bother her.

Picking idly at her plate, Delphi kept her eyes on the first of the books she'd taken from the library. _Spells for a Sophisticated Sorceress_ seemed to have quite a bit of what she needed: a tooth-brushing spell, an instant shower charm, even a charm to remove body hair. Mentally adding these to her ever-growing list of spells to practice, Delphi checked her schedule once again, just to be sure.

Delphi had only one class this afternoon. And in that first Potions lesson, she would not only face Draco, Pansy, and the rest of the Slytherins, but also Harry Potter, the Gryffindors, and Professor Snape, the hook-nosed teacher with the impenetrable, deeply intimidating black eyes. She was definitely looking forward to it.

* * *

"Oi!"

A familiar male voice rang out above the din of the corridor, but Delphi didn't bother to turn around. No one would be calling her, let alone calling her like that.

"What'd she say her name was? Daphne?"

Delphi turned, eyes narrowing as she recognized the voice. Ron Weasley stood about twenty paces behind her in the crowd, barely visible among the sea of bodies.

"It's _Delphi_ ," she snapped, quite forgetting to be friendly. Considering what she'd given up by pursuing him, the absolute last thing she needed was for Harry Potter to get her mixed up with some other Slytherin girl. "Daphne Greengrass is someone else. Are you looking for me or for her?"

"You, obviously!" said Ron. "Blimey, I thought you _wanted_ to be our friend. Or Harry's, at least."

She did, damn her. "Sorry. Did you want to walk to class with me?"

"We were hoping you knew how to get there. Snape's Head of Slytherin, and you seem like the know-it-all sort, so we reckoned you'd be a safe bet against our getting lost."

_And you seem like the blood-traitor sort, but you don't hear me complaining, do you?_ "I'm sure I can figure it out. Come on."

Hogwarts, so far, had proved a tricky beast. Classes were always the same place, as far as she knew, but the paths to get there seemed to shift. She hadn't run into an significant problems yet, but she had watched staircases move right as unlucky students were about to board them, had watched as others opened doors that led to nowhere, even watched from a safe distance as a poltergeist outright attacked a handful of kids. It wasn't what she'd been expecting, but she supposed there might be some value to the chaos of it; it would certainly teach them all to think on their feet, at least.

The dungeons, though, had no such tricks. Their deception was more straightforward; the deeper into them you went, the more mazelike they became. Or so she heard from older students loudly complaining in the halls. She would have to test this for herself later, because the Potions class certainly didn't lie deep within the labyrinthine bowels of the school. She, Ron, and Harry found it with ease, and the three of them entered the classroom barely ahead of the rest of the kids.

They took their seats by the wall, Harry and Ron sticking so close together that Delphi found no way to claim a seat between them. Instead, she sat on the outskirts of their friendship, with Ron against the wall and Delphi siting beside an empty chair that was not claimed, as she vainly hoped, by her cousin. Instead, Neville's somewhat tubby self sat down beside her and offered her a very sheepish smile that she hated herself for having to return. Hermione Granger sat down on his other side, and soon, Delphi found herself surrounded by a sea of Gryffindors.

_So this is what Hogwarts will be for me_ , Delphi realized with a kind of dull horror. _A serpent in the lion's den._

Still, she had to admit... the lone snake among a pride was certainly more impressive than just another in the nest.

On the other side of the room, Delphi saw Draco watching her. The look on his face was oddly inscrutable; he had never been one to hide his emotions particularly well before, but just a single day at Hogwarts already seemed to have changed him quite a lot. And not, she thought, for the better.

Professor Snape entered the room so quietly that most of the students didn't seem to notice him at first.

And yet somehow his effect was immediate; even though they hadn't seen him, the students fell into an unsettled hush as soon as he stepped into the classroom. Delphi could see uneasy confusion--and then comprehension--on the faces around her as Snape swept with billowing robes toward the front of the room.

He stopped before the blackboard and wasted no time on introductions. "You will say 'here', loudly and clearly, when I call your name. Lavender Brown."

Snape spoke at barely more than a whisper of a hiss, but everyone in the room sat rapt with attention. Voices cracked and broke from sheer nerves and anxiety as one by one, the students each announced their presence. Snape didn't look at them as he worked through his list of names, apparently content to assume that no one would dare defy him--not on the very first day, at least--by responding to someone else's name. But when he reached, "Delphini Lestrange," he for the first time glanced up--and Delphi found herself once again staring into those black pits he had for eyes.

It lasted for only the span of a heartbeat, but somehow it felt like she endured hours of it. Only after his gaze broke from hers did it occur to her that he hadn't even glanced toward the Slytherin side of the room; he'd known to find her with the Gryffindors.

Then, several names further down the list, Snape looked her way again. This time, though, she was forced to admit that what he'd given her before might as well have been an especially friendly smile.

The look Snape's face could only have been described as openly malicious as he looked toward black-haired boy at Delphi's side. "Ah, yes," Snape said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new _celebrity_."

Delphi could hear Draco and his horrible friends laughing from the other side of the room, and she cast a concerned glance in Harry's direction. Harry looked as bewildered as she was to find that Snape apparently already loathed him. She suddenly wished quite desperately that she could remember more about how Uncle Lucius knew this man.

At last, roll call ended. Snape set his parchment down upon his desk, where it vanished immediately. "You are here," he began in that cold, quiet voice, "to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death--if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Delphi had been so tripped up by the words _little foolish wand-waving_ that she almost missed this last bit of his speech. It caught her so off guard that it ripped a very unfortunate blurt of laughter from her, and she found herself once again pinned beneath the stare of that sinister gaze.

And then it shifted to her right.

"Potter!" Harry went so deadly still that he might've thought Snape was a cobra. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Delphi stared. She recalled this exact phrasing from _Magical Drafts and Potions_ , but the Draught of the Living Death was not a potion that the book actually discussed in any length. It wasn't taught to first years, and anyone who didn't recall that exact sentence of Arsenius Jigger's book would have no idea what Snape was talking about.

Out of the corner of her eye, Delphi watched as Hermione's hand shot into the air. Harry, though, looked as blank as she'd expected he would be.

"I don't know, sir."

Snape's sneer felt wildly undeserved. He clicked his tongue in derisive condemnation. "Fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Delphi's eyes narrowed as she watched the professor. Hermione's hand climbed higher toward the ceiling, but Snape paid it no mind. He was fixated upon Harry with the kind of calculated cruelty of a cat who had cornered a mouse. Delphi's skin crawled, and she wracked her mind for some silent way to let Harry know that the answer was 'within the stomach of a goat'.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" This was so unfair that Delphi barely managed to keep her mouth shut. Suddenly she wished she was in her proper place beside Draco simply so that she wouldn't have to feel so outraged on Harry's behalf. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

The way he kept saying Harry's last name made Delphi oddly queasy. What was he doing, she wondered? Did he expect repeating Harry's name to stop any other students from speaking out of turn? If so, he needn't have bothered; everyone else in the room was clearly too intimidated to do such a thing. Except--

"There is no difference," Delphi said in a voice that she hoped didn't waver. Snape's attention snapped onto her with a distinct undercurrent of venomous rage, but that wasn't _quite_ enough to scare her. "They're the same plant and also known as aconite." _Thank you,_ One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _, for that._ "A bezoar can be found in stomach of a goat, and the Draught of the Living Death is made from asphodel and wormwood, along with a host of other ingredients that none of us should be expected to know about because as far as I know, that's a N.E.W.T. level potion and not yet our concern."

The air seemed to have gone out of the room. Draco and his cronies, who had each been trying to laugh silently with varying degrees of success, were as still and hushed as the rest of the class as they waited for Snape to respond.

Snape's face betrayed nothing, giving Delphi no hints whatsoever to just how much trouble she was in. "That will be five points to Slytherin for your competence, Miss Lestrange--" A rush of relief accompanied the whispers on the other side of the room. "--and an hour's detention for speaking out of turn. You will see me after class."

Not as bad as she'd been expecting, but certainly not as much of a relief as she'd hoped. "Yes, sir."

Apparently satisfied, Snape turned away from her--and from Harry. "You will turn to page twenty-two of your textbooks and, with a partner, will attempt to brew the potion it describes. Ingredients can be found in the storeroom beyond that door. Your cauldrons--" As he mentioned them, they appeared beside their owners. More students gasped than did not. "--are now here. If you should finish early--which I doubt--you will clean them. If you cannot use magic, then you will do it by hand. I will walk among you and supervise your attempts." He paused. They hardly dared breathe. "Well? Get to work."

Pages rustled as everyone opened their books. Harry glanced at Delphi and offered her a little smile before Ron drew his attention away. With a sigh, Delphi turned to Neville. "Partners?" she said.

Neville's round face brightened--and then grew frightened again as Snape loomed over them like a shadow. "We have an odd number of students," he said without preamble. "Miss Lestrange will work alone. Granger will be Longbottom's partner."

And he swept away without another word. Neville gave Delphi a sad little look, but she only shrugged back at him. In a way, she rather suspected that Snape had just saved her hide; a boy who couldn't even keep track of his own pet wasn't likely a genius in class.

The potion on page twenty-two proved rather simple. There weren't many ingredients, and the instructions seemed perfectly straightforward. Apparently, curing boils was an easy task.

As Delphi worked, her mind wandered. She had been as enraptured as the rest of the class by Snape's little speech. He had spoken of beauty and power in potion-making, something that she'd never before heard mentioned by any of the witches or wizards in her life. She'd seen plenty of potions in her eleven years and used quite a few herself; Narcissa, as Delphi had recently found out, took a soothing draught once a month to ease the symptoms of her menses, and during the conversation in which Delphi herself had taken the potion for the first time, Aunt Cissy had even alluded to several more _interesting_ potions that she'd made use of in her day to day life as a married pureblood woman.

But Narcissa had only spoken of using potions, not of making them, and so Delphi had thought until now of potion-making as pedestrian magic, the kind of thing one did because one could not manage any greater art. But Snape... she knew practically nothing about him, and yet she doubted his proficiency at potions had a single thing to do with any magical weakness. He didn't seem the type to accept any weakness at all.

Then again, what had he said? _As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic._ If he thought wandwork foolish... She didn't know what to make of it. But there was something even more interesting in that single, mysterious sentence, and it was this that plucked at her curiosity. If potion-making didn't require much use of a wand, if any... _was_ it magic, at that? The end results were, surely, but as she understood it, the magic came from the interaction of the magical ingredients, not because of any inherent property of the brewer. Yes, obviously, there was skill involved, but it was not the kind of skill that one needed when, say, levitating a feather or lighting their wand. Potion-making was a matter of understanding the properties of reagents and how they could be combined for greater use. And if there were no magical demands upon the brewer beyond this understanding...

As she dared ponder the thought, Delphi felt as if the weight of a stone settled into her stomach. If there were no magical demands upon a potion-maker, did that mean that the person brewing the potion didn't have to be magic? Did that mean Squibs-- _and Muggles_ \--could brew potions, if they were given the chance?

So horrified was she by this question that Delphi almost dropped her porcupine quills into her cauldron before removing it from the fire. She felt Snape's gaze on her as she hastily corrected her mistake.

When finally the lesson was over, the students each carried to the front a phial containing their first attempt at a potion. Delphi hoped that she had done well despite the disadvantage of being the only one in the class to work alone; she had already gotten off on the wrong foot with Snape, thanks to her utterly foolish and inexplicable need to defend Potter from her own Head of House, and she doubted that she could afford to infuriate him any more than she already had.

"If you have not had time to clean your cauldrons, you may leave them," said Snape, and the crowd of relieved-looking students meandered out of the room. Delphi caught the gaze of Ron Weasley as he and Harry filed out; the redhead gave her a kind of reassuring nod.

Finally, Delphi and Professor Snape were alone.

"You will wait exactly where you are," he said, and as Delphi bristled beneath his obvious love for giving orders, he swept from the room.

Delphi waited silently for a few minutes, not daring to budge an inch. When Snape returned, he came in through a different door than the one through which he'd left. She knew better than to question it.

"You have no further classes this afternoon?"

"None, sir."

"Then you will serve your detention now." He gestured toward the cauldrons left unattended about the room. "Normally, I would vanish the contents of these cauldrons myself and leave the lessons on spellwork to my less fortunate peers." His eyes seemed to glitter maliciously. "However, as you seem _so eager_ to prove yourself, I set this task to you. Watch me."

He approached the nearest cauldron, pointed his wand, and uttered, " _Evanesco_."

The contents of the cauldron vanished, leaving smooth, clean metal in their wake. Had Delphi not seen it herself, she never would've guessed that a potion had just been there.

Snape looked back at her with what was now the first hint of an unpleasant smirk, and Delphi felt sure she was being taunted somehow. He strode back to his desk at the front of the room, leaving her standing beside nineteen full cauldrons awaiting her wand. She walked to the nearest one.

" _Evanesco_!"

Nothing happened.

Delphi felt her cheeks start to burn as realization sank in. Snape's punishment wasn't cleaning; it was humiliation. _Evanesco_ hadn't been in any of her textbooks; it wasn't a spell for first years.

_I don't bloody think so._ " _Evanesco_!" The potion remained stubborn there.

Delphi closed her eyes. Panic was bubbling up beneath her skin; she _hated_ being embarrassed, and she hated Snape for doing it to her. And she absolutely wasn't going to let him win.

She pointed her wand at the potion. Focused with everything she had. Pictured its disappearance in her mind's eye. " _Evanesco!_ "

The potion disappeared.

Delphi didn't dare glance in Snape's direction, but she didn't bother trying to hide her smirk, either. _That'll show him,_ she thought, and though she knew it likely wasn't a good idea to show up a teacher, she couldn't pretend she cared. Instead, she simply walked from cauldron to cauldron, uttering not a single word but the spell and vanishing various concoctions that mostly passed for attempts at a boil-curing potion.

When she was done, less than ten minutes of her detention had passed. "I've finished, professor," said Delphi, and she turned back to Snape.

He was not, as she had assumed, grading papers. Instead, she found to her distinct unease that he was watching her closely, with no hint of emotion on his face save the barest hint of judgment.

Rather than stammer incoherently, as she knew she would if she tried to speak, Delphi merely stared back at him and waited.

"Your detention, Miss Lestrange, is not over. You will sit." Delphi dropped herself into the nearest chair. "You will answer my questions. And each and every time you do so, you will raise your hand and not speak until you are called. Do you understand?" She nodded--and watched his eyes narrow dangerously. She thrust her hand into the air. "You may answer."

"I understand, professor."

"Good. Now, what are the magical properties of a mandrake?" _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ came to her rescue again. She raised her hand, feeling a bit foolish to be doing so in an empty classroom. "Miss Lestrange."

"The mandrake, or mandragora, is a plant with a humanoid root. Its roots and leaves can be used to make all sorts of different potions--mostly antidotes, I think?--but harvesting can be difficult because the roots scream when removed from the earth, and the cry will kill you if you hear it."

Delphi only assumed that she had gotten the answer correct because Snape did not pause to berate her. "What are the disadvantages of a love potion?" She raised her hand. "Lestrange."

"Love cannot be magically created; love potions only manufacture obsession."

"What are three ingredients of a general antidote to minor poisons?" Up went her hand; Snape called on her again.

"A bezoar, mistletoe berries, and unicorns horns, though I don't quite understand that, considering the bezoar itself should work well enough on its own."

Snape ignored this. "What is the effect of the alihotsy leaf?" She raised her hand; he called her name.

"Uncontrollable laughter, if ingested."

"Well, you've clearly read your textbooks," said Snape, though she doubted this was meant to be taken as praise. She got the feeling that he was the type of teacher who thought that reading the textbook before the year even started was a bare minimum requirement. "That, if nothing else, proves you're at least capable of thought--unlike the bulk of the students I've taught over the years. But let us go on." He looked at her with such a dangerous hint of a smile that Delphi knew immediately how much trouble she must be in. "What potion requires the powder of a diamond crushed beneath a full moon?"

Now, Delphi stared at him. _That_ had not been in her textbook. Had there been anything about diamonds--or the moon, for that matter? Not that she recalled.

"Well, Miss Lestrange?" Snape asked very softly. "Why are you not raising your hand?"

Need she raise her hand to answer that, she wondered? "Because I don't know the answer, sir."

Was that look on his face actually _smug_? "Very well. Try again: What does one get when adding the hair of a thestral to a vial of unicorn's blood?"

_What?_ "Nothing good, I'm sure," she blurted, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

Snape's eyes glittered. "That is not an answer, Miss Lestrange, and I did not see you raise your hand. What potions can I brew with the scales of a mermaid?"

She had no idea, of course. And it went on like that for a long while, Snape bombarding her with questions that she had no ability to answer. By the end of it, he no longer even paused to give her a chance to reply; he simply launched into the next question after he'd finished the last, driving home his point with vicious certainty. Ron might have called her a know-it-all before, but Snape was determined to prove that she hardly knew a thing.

When he finally stopped, it was three minutes to two o'clock. Just three little minutes between herself and freedom from this very successful attempt at humiliation.

"A final question or two, Miss Lestrange, before I permit you to go. Why are you attempting to befriend Harry Potter?"

_That_ was not what she had been expecting. "I'm--" She cut herself off and raised her hand again for the first time in a half an hour.

"Answer."

"Because he's Harry Potter. He's only just got his wand, and people have already worshiped him for a decade. Even if he turned out to be a Squib, he'd still be a valuable friend to have." She hesitated. Snape clearly hated her already, so what did she have to lose by trying to see her own curiosity fulfilled? "May I also ask a question, professor? Something you said in class left me curious."

"If you must."

"It's just that you said there's little wand-waving when it comes to potions, and..." Was it a mistake to ask him? He was Head of Slytherin and an apparent friend of Uncle Lucius, after all; what were the odds that he'd just call her a blood traitor and send her on her way? "I was wondering if you meant to imply that the wandwork we perform in class isn't necessary when making a potion? I mean to say, is the magic of potions inherent to _us_ or inherent to the reagents themselves? Speaking practically... is potion-making something that only a witch or wizard could do, or could it also be achieved by, say, a centaur... or a Muggle?"

Snape stared at her for a very long moment. She felt heat rising in her cheeks, but it was too late to take the question back. "No, Miss Lestrange, potion-making is not magic that could be performed by a Muggle. Only a witch or a wizard has the magic necessary to create a true potion; were a Muggle to combine the ingredients, even in the proper order and exactly the correct conditions, they would have created nothing more that a particularly revolting and likely poisonous soup. The use of a wand--or of wandless magic, if the brewer is capable--is still necessary for the art of making potions. A potion is not complete without that final touch."

Delphi's blush scorched her. This was even worse than she had feared. Not only had she asked a man who likely believed wholeheartedly in the inherent superiority of wizards whether or not Muggles could perform magic if simply given a chance, but she had also been _wrong_ in her supposition--and this, after failing to answer at least a hundred academic questions. For a single, wild instant, Delphi wondered if it might be possible to simply vanish herself.

"However," said Snape in a very quiet voice, "that you ask the question is, if nothing else, further proof that you're at least more intelligent than most of the students I've had the misfortune to teach. But another question: Why have you not been sitting with your cousin, either at meals or in this class?"

Delphi sat stunned by all of it--that Snape had given her a compliment after everything she'd just endured and that he had noticed her and Draco's falling out. "Er, we--"

"Hand, Miss Lestrange." She lifted it reluctantly, face still burning red. "Good. Answer me."

"Draco and I have had a row, I think. He had less luck with Potter than I did, and he's not happy about it."

"Mr. Malfoy attempted to sway Potter, as well?"

Delphi didn't know if that was to be considered a separate question or a continuation of the last, so she rather half-heartedly raised her hand and barely waited for Snape's answering nod. "Yeah. Only he thought he could swoop in, insults the friends that Harry had already made, and... I don't know, really. He thought Harry would just find him inherently special, I suppose. Draco thinks a lot of himself. Sir," she added hastily.

"I see. One final question before you go, then: why has Longbottom been so foolish as to seat himself at your side?"

Delphi blinked. "What?"

" _Hand_ , Miss Lestrange," Snape hissed again. "And that did not sound like an answer."

Her hand shot up; Snape nodded to her. "It wasn't an answer, _sir_. I don't understand the question."

"Is there something wrong with your hearing?"

Up went her hand; Snape nodded again. Surely they could dispense with this foolishness after an entire _hour_? "No, sir."

"Then why was Neville Longbottom sitting beside you in my class?"

Hand, nod. "Why wouldn't he?"

"That was a question, girl, not an answer."

"I don't know the answer!" she burst out. "Maybe he hasn't made any friends yet. Maybe he was just trying to sit as close to Harry as he could! What does it matter?"

"Because, Miss Lestrange," said Professor Snape in his most dangerous hiss yet, "you will recall why you are being raised by your aunt and your uncle."

Delphi blinked. "What does that have to do with--?"

_Oh._

His name was Neville _Longbottom_. Her parents had been sent to Azkaban for the torture and mental incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom. Merlin's bleeding arse.

"I see you understand me now. So tell me again, why would Longbottom place himself anywhere within your vicinity?"

She raised her hand, thinking hard. Snape nodded to her. "Maybe he doesn't know? Maybe... he can't have _forgotten_ , can he?"

"You did."

"But I didn't lose my parents to his."

"Didn't you?"

Had she? Could she blame Neville's parents for taking hers away? She didn't think so--frankly, she hardly even cared about her parents at all. She didn't know them; she'd never even met them, as far as she could recall. Lucius and Narcissa were more mother and father to her than her actual parents had ever been--or would ever be, considering what they'd done to the Longbottoms.

Very slowly, she raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Lestrange?"

"No," she said quietly. "I don't think I did, sir."

Again, there was silence between them as he appraised her.

"Very well. I will say this to you only once: there is a reason that Slytherin is an insular House. Do not give the other students an excuse to teach you why. You may go."

Delphi gathered her things in a rush, eager to be rid of this horrible man.

* * *

Tuesday brought with it the three classes that Delphi hadn't yet endured: Herbology with the Ravenclaws after breakfast, Transfiguration with the Gryffindors at mid-morning, and Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors before suppertime. Delphi made sure to act friendly toward the Ravenclaw girls during Herbology, but for the most part, she kept to herself; luckily, Pansy Parkinson--a bully if she'd ever seen one--hadn't yet gotten up the nerve to say anything to Delphi.

In Transfiguration, Delphi again seated herself beside Ron and Harry; to her vast surprise, this time they were the ones saving a seat for her. It was a good lesson, too, even if it did involve a copious amount of note-taking. The only drawback was that while Delphi managed to turn her matchstick into a needle within only a few attempts toward the end of class, so too did Hermione Granger--and Granger did it _faster_. McGonagall awarded a point to both of them, though, and Delphi took a certain sense of pride in the way Ron gave Hermione a gloating look that seemed to say, "My friend's at least as good as you are!"

It wasn't quite what she'd been hoping for when she vowed to befriend Harry Potter, but at this point, she would take what she could get.

After a lunch eaten in solitude and silence--or as much of each as one could manage to find within the crowd of the Great Hall--Delphi spent her two free periods in the library before heading off to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Delphi knew better than to expect much from Professor Scared-of-His-Own Shadow, but only after the class was over did she fully appreciate just how much of a joke his lessons would be--and how much this would disappoint her. She found Ron and Harry in the line awaiting entrance to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and the two of them waved her over. Ignoring Pansy Parkinson's loud complaints about cutting in line, she smiled contentedly; even if it hadn't been worth it, at least she could say that she'd definitely won the bet.

When the classroom door opened and the line of students began to file in, the overwhelming scent of garlic slammed into them with all the force of the Hogwarts Express. She'd heard the rumors already, of course--that Quirrell was deathly afraid of being assaulted by a vampire he'd run into during his Grand Tour, but she hadn't expected him to go this far; she could hardly _breathe_ in his room, and she was sure after she left that the stench was following her.

Quirrell's incompetence didn't stop at eccentricity and odor. The story he gave them about his turban was laughably false, as even the Gryffindors seemed to realize from the way he blushed and changed the subject when one of them asked for more details, and Delphi sincerely wondered how he'd gotten this position in the first place. She remembered what Lucius had said; Quirrell had been the professor for Muggle Studies before his Tour, and clearly he'd come back worse for the wear--so why had he been given what was no doubt a far more demanding job than simply yammering about Muggles all day?

The only thing she could say to his credit was that he was properly delighted when he saw that she could already perform the wand-lighting charm, _lumos_ , and its counter, _nox_ \--not that it made the Slytherins in the class any more inclined to like her when he stopped everyone to show her off.

"Well d-d-done, Miss Lestrange!" he exclaimed, and the smile of encouragement that he gave her seemed genuinely pleased. Hermione Granger, like the Slytherins, seemed particularly put-out.

As the students filed out of the classroom, Delphi stuck with Harry and Ron. "It's a pity you can't come sit with us," said Ron. Had someone told her yesterday that he'd be saying so today, Delphi wouldn't have believed them.

She gave him her sweetest smile. "I hadn't thought you liked me very much, actually."

"Well, you _are_ a Slytherin. Not sure the hat was right on that one, though." She carefully suppressed her urge to wince--or snarl. "But the way you stood up to Snape yesterday... Not even Fred and George want to take him on unless they have to! That was brave. You would've made a good Gryffindor."

This nearly stopped Delphi in her tracks. There was a horrifying logic to Ron's words. What if she _didn't_ belong in Slytherin, after all? She might as well go drown herself in a toilet right now.

"It's not an insult!" said Ron, having caught the look on her face. "I dunno why you'd want to be in Slytherin anyway, honestly. Who'd want to be stuck with those tossers all night and day? So far they all seem either dull as trolls--like Crabbe and Goyle--or ratty little creeps like Malfoy. Er, no offense. He's your cousin or something, right?"

"Practically siblings." And best friends, until a few days ago. It hurt to think about. How could she have known that stupid bet would come between them?

"Yeah, well," Ron went on, "I've got enough of those to know that sometimes they're more trouble than they're worth. Especially when they're called Percy..."

As they entered the Great Hall, Delphi, Harry, and Ron parted ways; the boys went to join the Gryffindor table, where they were overtly welcomed by the rest of the students, and Delphi shuffled off to her position of exile at the Slytherin table. She knew it was too much to hope that Draco might approach her to reconcile; he'd clearly moved on already. Whatever they had been to each other before, he didn't seem to want to be it anymore. Delphi was determined not to let him see how much this hurt her.

No one spoke to her at dinner, which she didn't much mind, and when she retreated to the dungeons for the night, she was more than ready to simply crawl into bed and spent some quality time with one her new books.

She was not so lucky.

"So," came Parkinson's unwelcome voice just as Delphi was about pull her four-poster's curtains securely shut. "I have a few questions for you, Lestange. I think we'd all appreciate getting some answers, as a matter of fact. Wouldn't we, girls?"

Millicent Bullstrode, ever the sycophant, nodded. Even Daphne and Tracey seemed to be interested, if not entirely on Pansy's side. Only Lilly Moon, the very silent and standoffish six girl in the doom, seemed not to be riveted to this conversation.

Delphi steeled herself. Whatever questions Parkinson had, she knew they weren't going to be good.

"What questions, Pansy?"

"Well," the girl began, "let's start with Potions yesterday. Would you mind explaining what the hell that was, all the way from start to finish?"

"Sure," Delphi said with false geniality. "What part of it confused you?"

Pansy's brows furrowed into a scowl. "All of it. Sitting with Gryffindors, taking up for Harry Potter when Professor Snape was actually bothering to put him in his place... Hell, I heard a rumor that you actually sat with them on the train--Harry Potter and that _Weasley_. Have you always been a blood traitor, or did one of them conk you very hard on the head on the way to school?"

_Blood traitor._ The words echoed in Delphi's head. She feared this would be the first of many such accusations. "I'm not a traitor to anything, thank you. Harry Potter is, in case you weren't listening to Snape, a celebrity--the kind of person someone with _ambition_ should want to be friends with. And the Weasleys are purebloods; there's nothing to say that just because the parents are trash, all of the children have to be."

Pansy laughed scathingly. "Oh, please. There's no way you can make this look good. You got detention from Snape on your very first day. You haven't bothered trying to make any friends in your own house. Even your own flesh and blood doesn't want anything to do with you--or hasn't Draco made that clear. What is _wrong_ with you, Lestrange? I can't imagine how you even managed to get into Slytherin; it's only been a few days, and you've already proven you don't belong here. Maybe you should look into getting a transfer?"

Delphi stared at her for a long moment. What was she even to say to that? The words hurt, no matter how little she cared for the person speaking them; they hurt because they were questions--insults--that she'd already been directing toward herself. "Well, you've certainly told me, I suppose. Are you quite finished with it, then?"

"You're not even going to defend yourself? You really aren't a Slytherin at all."

"Defend myself?" Delphi repeated, trying very hard to make the idea sound ridiculous. "To you? What point would there be in that? You're nothing to me, Parkinson. I don't give a rat's arse about you or your opinions. As you've at least managed to notice--and good on you for that one--I'm not trying to be your friend. Not interested at all, in fact. I don't know what the hell you are, Parkinson, or what the hell you think Slytherin house is, but our attributes are a bit more than just blood purity and conservative politics. In case you've forgotten, we're supposed to bring some degree of ambition and cunning to the table. So I'll tell you what, I'll go ahead and be ambitious and cunning and capable of making my own decisions, and you can continue to care _oh so much_ about who might be a blood traitor and who gets along with Draco Malfoy and who best sucks up to the Head of House. That way, we'll have all of Slytherin's facets covered between the two of us, yeah? Now leave me alone, and go the hell to sleep."

Ignoring Parkinson's sneer, Delphi slammed her curtains shut.

For a long while, she lay there in her bed, too anxious even to open a book while she listened to the other girls whisper amongst themselves and shuffle off to bed. When finally the last of them seemed to have retired to their own four-poster for the night, Delphi finally dared to slip out from the safety of her bed. She needed to use the loo before she slept, and she didn't trust Parkinson not to hex her while her back was turned. Hopefully, she could get out and back without being noticed.

No such luck. "Lestrange," someone whispered harshly. Delphi didn't recognize the voice.

Peering through the darkness with squinted eyes, Delphi caught sight of a pale face peeking out from behind the curtains of the nearest bed. Lilly Moon's long black hair hung lank around her face, giving her a very eerie effect in the nearly-nonexistent light of the room.

"What?" Delphi whispered back. She'd shared a bedroom with Moon for two nights already, but this was the first time she'd heard the girl speak to anyone. She couldn't imagine what she wanted to say.

"You are a Slytherin, you know," Moon whispered. "Don't listen to Pansy. You're more of a Slytherin than the rest of us combined."

What was _that_ supposed to mean? "Er... thanks?"

Moon smiled. Her teeth were very white, in stark contrast to the black curtains of her hair and her dark, unsettling eyes. Delphi shifted nervously beneath her gaze. "Not a compliment," she murmured. "Just a fact."

And before Delphi could say anything else, the girl was gone, her pale face disappearing behind the curtains of her bed. Delphi stared, unnerved, for a moment longer, and then decided that she might as well just head to the loo.

She was sharing a dorm, it seemed, with a bully, a sycophant, two snobs, and a weirdo.


	5. The Hardest Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Silence is one of the hardest arguments to refute." -Josh Billings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon, Hagrid invites Harry and Ron to see him on Friday afternoon at the end of the first week. As I've revamped the class schedule in such a way that this is no longer possible, this meeting has been changed to Saturday afternoon. Also, I've given Draco's owl a name, as it lacks one in canon.
> 
> Since this is a short chapter, I'm posting it pretty much immediately after the last one. The next one looks to be similarly short, so it'll probably also be posted fairly soon. (In retrospect, it might've been best to try to interweave the two chapters, but I outlined with a focus on chapter-specific themes rather than chapter length. *shrug*)

Delphi made it to breakfast on Wednesday without incident. She watched, bored, from the seat at the end of the table as the swarm of owls swooped overheard, delivering their owners' packages and letters. Draco's eagle owl, Caesarius, caught her eye as it dropped down beside him, and he took a letter from its clawed foot. Immediately, it rose back into the air--and flew straight to Delphi.

Puzzled, Delphi took a second letter from the owl, gave it a quick pet and a bit of food off her plate, and surveyed her letter as the bird flew away. She recognized Narcissa's handwriting upon the envelope, and she opened it eagerly. In her familiar gorgeous script, the letter read:

_Darling Delphini,_

_I do hope you're enjoying your first week at school. You will write to me soon, won't you? I miss you and Draco terribly, and I am eager to hear all about your studies and the other students. I am desperate for details, my dearest. You will understand when you are a mother; this is a nearly unbearable time for me, being separated from my children for the very first time. And yes--though you are my sister's, you must know I consider you my own._

_So please, sweetling, write back to me as soon as you are able. Tell me of your friends, your teachers, whatever you please--and do make sure that Draco does, too._

_With all my love,_

_Narcissa_

Delphi read the letter twice before she could believe it. Narcissa had never been the most maternal woman in the world, and this much emotion after only a few days of separation came as a great surprise.

That last line of the letter, though... That would be the hard part. Writing back to Narcissa would be no matter. Lying in a letter would be as easy as breathing--and she had absolutely no plans of telling Narcissa the truth about her first few days at school. But if Draco refused to write back to his mother, those lies would fall apart; Delphi had always managed to sway him before, so if she failed to do so now, then Narcissa would surely realize that something was wrong.

Delphi pulled a quill and a bottle of ink from her bag and chewed the tip for a moment as she thought. Even if Draco did write back, she realized, her lies would probably not go unnoticed. If Draco mentioned her at all, Delphi's deception would fall apart. So what to do?

Best to lie anyway, she decided--and to do it in such a way that she could play it off as embarrassment about her circumstances if she was caught. She scribbled out her response, quite purposefully forgetting to mention the names of her new friends or what House they happened to be in, and then put the parchment back into her bag. She would mail it off later, during her afternoon break.

* * *

Wednesday came with a full schedule. Her classes this year met only three times a week, but all of them met on a Wednesday. As such, she had only one free period in the middle of the afternoon, right between Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. The morning saw her hurry from Herbology with the Ravenclaws in the outdoor greenhouses to History of Magic and then Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, followed by Charms with, again, the Ravenclaws. Lunch broke the monotony only slightly, and Delphi spent more of it reading than she did on her meal. Then she was off to Potions, where she sat beside Harry and Ron for the third time that day, and after Snape dismissed the class, Delphi, Harry, and Ron departed the dungeons together.

"Do you all want to go to the library for free period?" asked Delphi. "Or to the courtyard outside?"

"Can't," said Ron. "I'm drowning in homework already, and it's barely even the third day! Can you believe it?"

Delphi could; she had just as much of it, herself. "You could do your homework in the library."

Ron shrugged. "I'd rather be comfortable in the common room. Most everyone else'll be in class, so we can finally get the good seats!"

The Gryffindor common room remained woefully beyond Delphi's reach, so she wasn't particularly pleased to hear this. "What about you, Harry?"

"Er, yeah... The common room, I think. Sorry."

Frustration flexed beneath her skin, but she forced her lips into a smile. "That's alright. Maybe we can hang out after your homework is done? I've got to stop by the owlery, and after that, I'll be in the library if you need me. If not, I'll see you in Defense!"

The boys headed off, Ron looking oblivious to any hurt feelings on Delphi's part, though Harry looked at least a bit apologetic. Delphi made her way toward the owlery, checking her bag to make sure that her to letter to Narcissa was exactly where she had left it.

Up the stairs she went, weaving through corridors. Those just outside of classrooms remained quite full until the bell rang at the start of the next period, but many of the halls stayed empty. It occurred to her as she walked that quite a bit about this school didn't seem to make a lot of sense; it was a massive castle, and yet there couldn't have been more than about five hundred students attending, at the most. And, even assuming that there were a handful more than she'd seen at the staff table, there only seemed to be about a dozen teachers for all the kids. How was that even possible, she wondered? How could only a dozen professors manage to teach so many students, especially when it seemed that the school was meant for so many more? Hogwarts remained a mystery to her; she resolved to bump _Hogwarts: A History_ up to a higher priority on her reading list.

The owlery was a large, circular room with a high-up, vaulted ceiling. Glassless windows lined the walls, letting in streaming sunlight; she could only assume that they were enchanted to repel wind and water during less pleasant weather than this. Owls perched everywhere along the rafters, and the stone floor was almost hidden beneath a layer of straw and tiny bones. This room was no doubt her little snake, Boros's, worst nightmare, and she hoped that he'd had enough sense to steer clear of it so far.

Delphi eyes scanned the feathery crowd for any sign of Caesarius; she didn't see him anywhere. "Alright," sighed Delphi, "can one of you help me, please?"

A school owl fluttered down to her, giving her letter a surprisingly disdainful look for a creature that barely had facial expressions. Ignoring this, she tied her parchment to its leg. "This is for Narcissa Malfoy. Can you take it to her?" The bird just stared, then took off through the nearest opening in the wall. Delphi decided to take that as a yes, and she turned to face the door.

"Well, what do we have here?"

Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bullstrode stood in the doorway, blocking the only exit to the room.

"Do you need something?" asked Delphi, but her hand was already on her wand. The girls' expressions were friendly enough at the moment, but their posture was all wrong for a simple greeting. And considering how _unfriendly_ their relationship had become last night, Parkinson and Bullstrode clearly had something else in mind.

Pansy shrugged. "Just mailing some letters home. Not everything's about you, you know."

"Right, then. I'm leaving, so I would appreciate if you would stop blocking the door." None of the girls budged. Delphi gripped her wand tighter. "I said move, Parkinson. Don't make me say it again."

Wariness flitted across Pansy's face, then hardened into sinister resolve. She pulled out her wand. Delphi readied hers.

" _Tarantallegra!_ " Pansy shrieked, and at the same time, Delphi screamed, " _Protego!_ "

For a moment, Delphi felt a surge of relief. Her shield charm must have worked, though she had never tried to cast it before. Pansy's spell hadn't so much as grazed her.

Then she realized--there had been no spell. Pansy had said the incantation alright, but she must have lacked the skill to cast it. Her wand had done nothing, and Delphi dispelled her shield with a flick of her wand. She offered Pansy a vicious smile and watched the other girl take a step back.

Pansy was going to regret so much as trying to attack her. Delphi wouldn't _hurt_ her, but she would definitely make her pay.

" _Rictusempra_!" she hissed through bared teeth, and she laughed along with Pansy, who quite suddenly had no choice but to do so.

Millicent stared blankly at her ringleader, apparently at a loss for what to do--then let out a deafening bellow. Whether it was rage or a particularly panicked cry for help, Delphi didn't know; nor did she get the chance to find out. Almost immediately, Delphi could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs beyond the owlery door. Pansy collapsed onto the floor, doubled over in laughter so uncontrollable that it might actually have been painful, and even as the castle caretaker ran into the room, Delphi couldn't muster up a single regret.

"Fighting, eh?" croaked the old man, and Delphi finally lowered her wand. Pansy and her friends wouldn't dare attempt anything else for now. "And it's only the first week. You sure don't plan to be at this school for long! You--" He pointed to Millicent. "--quit that caterwauling and take that one to the hospital wing." He rounded on Delphi. "And as for you..." He gave her a harsh smile full of yellowed, crooked teeth. "You'll be facing Professor Snape. Knows how to give a proper punishment, that one."

The caretaker's laughter mingled briefly with Pansy's, and then his hand clamped painfully down upon Delphi's shoulder, and he steered her from the room.

* * *

By the time Delphi reached Snape's office, she had started to suspect that jinxing Pansy might not have been the best idea after all. She'd already had one detention with Snape, and now, not two days later, she'd gotten herself into trouble again. Would it even matter that Pansy had attacked first? Delphi had put up a shield; she certainly hadn't _needed_ to take a shot of her own.

She couldn't change it now, though. The caretaker knocked heavily upon the door, and Delphi steeled herself to face the professor's wrath.

" _What?_ " Snape's voice hissed as the door swung open. His eyes narrowed as they fixed upon Delphini.

The caretaker pushed her forward. "This one has been fighting," he said.

Snape glared down at her; she met his gaze and tried desperately not to look away. "Is this true?"

"More or less."

"I will take care of this, Filch," said Snape. Finally, the caretaker's vice-like grip released Delphi's shoulder. Rubbing the aching muscle, Delphi stepped into Snape's office. He shut the door behind her. " _Sit_."

She took one side of his desk; Snape resumed the other. The room was silent as he stared at her.

"I'm not going to apologize," said Delphi quietly. "She attacked me first."

"Who, Miss Lestrange?"

"Pansy Parkinson. She and Millicent Bulstrode cornered me in the owlery. I was just mailing a letter to Narcissa; I didn't do anything to warrant being jumped."

"You claim you were assaulted?"

"Well, no, technically. Pansy's pathetic. She couldn't actually cast the spell." Delphi did her best to suppress her smile. "I could, though."

"And no doubt that is why you are the one who will be facing my wrath instead of her. This is the second time within three days that you have done something to warrant a detention, Miss Lestrange. Are you perhaps unaware that you are at this school to _learn_?"

"No, sir."

"Then have you not yet had enough homework assigned? Explain to me how you have such free time as to be picking fights with your fellow students in between class?"

"I've told you already, I didn't pick any fights." His glare reminded her that she'd best not pick one with him, either. "Sir."

"Didn't you? You certainly seem incapable of keeping your tongue in check."

Delphi bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn't used to being insulted, and yet insults seemed to be Professor Snape's favorite sport. "If you think that I went to owlery and by myself cornered two other students, then alright, professor. At least if I let that rumor get around, it should keep anyone else from harassing me."

If insults were one tool in Snape's arsenal, then uncomfortable silence was certainly another. Delphi contented herself to sit in it. He stared at her coldly; she stared back at him and pretended that she wasn't terrified. Could she be expelled for this, she wondered? Or suspended? What would be her punishment if he really thought she'd really been terrorizing other students?

"There will no punishment for defending yourself, Miss Lestrange--this _once_. In the future, I suggest you attempt to simply disarm your opponents."

"Expelliarmus?"

His lip curled. "That is the incantation. Now you may leave, and I suggest that you make sure you are not back in my office again this week."

"Yes, sir."

Delphi fled.

* * *

After five long days, Delphi's first week at Hogwarts had finally come to a close. Pansy had left her alone after the incident in the owlery, and Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis had actually seemed more than a little amused by the whole thing--though they did not again approach Delphi as a potential friend. Sally-Anne seemed to be the one they were courting now; Delphi found her with Daphne and Tracey as often as Pansy and Millicent, and she seemed to enjoy having the two pairs competing over her attention. Delphi tried very hard not to dwell on how it could have been _her_ who the other girls were working so hard to impress.

Harry and Ron had yet to spend any of their free periods with her, though they now saved her a seat in class whenever they arrived first. Delphi also tried very hard not to well on this. There were, she told herself, plenty more weeks between now and the end of the year in which to solidify the friendship.

Narcissa's letter arrived at breakfast on Saturday morning. Delphi's heart sank as Caesarius arrived. The owl had brought Draco his mother's response days ago, and Delphi should have known better than to hope that Narcissa might simply leave well enough alone. Instead, her letter pried as only a mother could.

_Dearest Delphini,_

_You should know better than to imagine you can fool me. It might have worked had Draco not written, and I'm quite sure that's what you were counting on. Alas, I received his letter even before receiving yours, and so I saw through you immediately._

_What has happened between the two of you, my darling? Draco resists the idea of discussing it. He merely makes oblique references to Harry Potter of all people, and I can't believe for a moment that you would be so foolish as to get mixed up with him. So tell me, sweetling, I implore you: what are you hiding from me? Why does Draco insist that you are no longer his friend, let alone his family? This seems to be more than some preadolescent row. Even through his letters, I can tell how upset he must be, and you've no idea how devastated it makes my own heart._

_I eagerly await your explanation._

_My love always,_

_Narcissa_

Delphi stared at the parchment for a long while. She didn't know what to write back. Aunt Cissy wouldn't take her side in this, that much was clear. Delphi's actions of late hardly even make sense to Delphi herself, if she really got down to it. Delphi had given up her chance for glory within Slytherin, and for what? A bet about the friendship of a boy whose existence could be directly tied to the reason her parents were in Azkaban. It sounded absurd even when she said it to herself; how could she possibly explain it to Narcissa without getting herself committed to St. Mungo's?

Sighing heavily, Delphi rolled the letter up and tucked it away inside her bag. She could deal with it later. For now, she had homework to attend to--and maybe if she was very lucky, she could convince Harry and Ron to finally join her in the library to get theirs done, too. Perhaps if she offered to help them with it...?

She found them after breakfast, as they were leaving the Great Hall. "Harry! Ron!"

"Hi," said Ron as she caught up to them. Beside him, Harry smiled at her. She hoped it wasn't just politeness anymore; she was giving up so much for him.

"Good morning!" said Delphi cheerily. "Relieved it's the weekend, I take it?"

"You have no idea," said Ron. "I can't believe we've got homework to do over our first weekend! I wish Fred and George had warned me that the teachers here were slavedrivers. I would've liked to have been prepared."

"If you want, I could help you with it. Unless you have something else to do today?"

"Actually, we do..." said Ron, casting a furtive glance at Harry. Delphi's brow furrowed.

"Er, yeah," said Harry, and her heart sank. They were ditching her, weren't they? The least they could do was not be so obvious about it... "Hagrid's actually invited us to tea this afternoon. At his hut, you know. Maybe you could come with us?"

Delphi stared. On the one hand, Harry Potter had just finally invited her to spend some time with him outside of a classroom. Other the other, he wanted her to join him at _Hagrid's hut_ , of all places.

"Sure!" she said brightly. Had she truly lost her mind? "I'd love to. What time this afternoon?"

"Three."

"I'm sure we'll be swamped with work until then," said Ron gloomily. "Well, see you later, Delphi!"

"Right," muttered Delphi. She felt rather nauseated now. "I'll see you then."

* * *

Delphi stared out the library window, her chin in her palm. She could see Hagrid's hut far below her. Harry and Ron wouldn't be there yet; it was still only two o'clock.

Could she really do this? She remembered the revulsion in Lucius's voice whenever he had mentioned the groundskeeper. Then again... hadn't he always spoken of Harry Potter with a very similar kind of barely-suppressed disdain? She'd decided it was alright to join up with Harry simply because he might not grow up to become the Muggle-loving _hero_ that everyone expected he'd be, but with Hagrid, she could make no such justifications. Even associating with Ronald Weasley was already pushing the limits of her excuses. So much as an acquaintanceship with Hagrid would be many steps too far.

Still, though... In for a penny, in for a--

"Miss L-L-Lestrange?"

Professor Quirrell was standing behind her, looking even more nervous than ever before. "Yes, Professor?"

"C-c-come along, p-please."

Delphi wracked her memory as she gathered up her things. She didn't remember having done anything wrong. They hadn't even turned in their first homework assignment for Defense yet. What did Quirrell want?

He took her from the library all the way to his office. Once inside, he waved for her to sit down. She did so, feeling very awkward as he took a seat behind his desk.

"What's this about, Professor?"

"I-I heard th-th-that you g-got into a f-f-fight. With a M-miss P-Parkinson, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"P-Professor S-Snape chose n-n-not to p-punish you?"

His stutter was certainly no more endearing than it had ever been. "No, sir."

"W-why not?"

"Because I was only defending myself, sir. Pansy attacked first."

Quirrell was quiet for a moment. His eyes fluttered shut, and he took a shaky breath. Then he reopened his eyes, and his gazed fixed very closely upon her. "But Pansy doesn't have the kind of magic that you do, does she? Your talent is... refreshing, Miss Lestrange. Few students are able to perform even simple magic when they arrive. And Severus said you used a shield charm to defend yourself; that's not on the curriculum until fourth year, you know." He tried for a smile, but didn't quite manage it. "I have something for you."

If Quirrell hadn't immediately risen and turned his back on her, Delphi was sure he would have seen the shock on her face. What did he mean, he had something for her? Like a _gift_?

When Quirrell turned back around, he set a book upon his desktop and slid it toward her. _The Art of Dueling_ , Delphi read. She glanced up at him. "Sir, I'm grateful, but--"

"You're a talented student," he said quietly as he sat back down. The book sat between them, waiting. "I would... regret not nurturing your skills." Again, he tried to smile. "It's not a library book, and this is not a borrow. It is yours to keep. Let it remind you that... that knowledge can be found outside of class."

Bewildered, Delphi reached over the desk to take the book. She slid it into her lap. "Thank you, Professor."

For some reason, Quirrell flinched. He didn't seem to be looking at her anymore. "Tell me when you've finished reading, Miss Lestrange. I might just have something else for you by then. In the meantime, go enjoy the rest of your weekend. And Delphini... take care around Harry Potter."

Delphi nodded, though she was confused, and left the office quickly. She was eager to be away from him; something about their conversation struck her as very suspicious indeed, though she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

* * *

When Delphi arrived at the little wooden house on the edges of the forbidden forest, Harry and Ron were already there. Ron gave Harry a look as she approached them. She doubted he'd expected her to show up.

Harry knocked on the door of the hut, and Delphi lingered nervously behind the boys as a dog began to bark deafeningly from inside.

" _Back_ , Fang, back!" The sound of Hagrid's voice was almost immediately followed b the sight of him; he peered through the cracked door. "Hang on. _Back_ , Fang."

Fang proved to be a colossal boarhound that was more delighted to see them than Delphi thought anyone had ever been. As the three of them joined Hagrid inside his single-room abode, the giant of a man struggled to keep a hold of the beast. But he didn't try for long, and as soon as he let go of the dog, it nearly bowled them over in its haste to smother them beneath its drooling tongue and terrible breath. Delphi wanted to hate it, but she'd always had a soft spot for animals.

"Hey, there," she murmured to it as Harry introduced both her and Ron. "So you're Fang, huh?" The dog was bigger than she was.

"And you say yer a Lestrange?" The sound of Hagrid's gruff voice saying her name captured her attention. She looked up to find him watching her from behind his massive beard. "Never thought I'd see the day when a Slytherin came down fer a chat."

 _That makes two of us._ "First time for everything," muttered Delphi.

Hagrid's attention left her. Harry and Ron, polite as could be, tried to eat the inedible rock cakes that Hagrid offered them. They prattled on about their lessons and complained about Filch, and Delphi held her silence all the while. And even though Hagrid was an eager participant in the boys' conversation, Delphi couldn't help but notice that his eyes kept wandering back to her.

Hagrid and Harry argued briefly over Snape; Harry seemed to think the potions master hated him, which Delphi privately thought was quite likely, though Hagrid dismissed the idea. They talked about Ron's brother, the Gringotts break-in, and--once _again_ \--the supposed merits of playing Quidditch. Delphi barely paid attention to any of it; she'd already gone above and beyond just by being there. She just petted Fang, who had his head atop Harry's leg and was drooling everywhere, and when Harry and Ron decided that it was finally time to go, she felt nothing but relief.

If she was very lucky, Delphi would never have to sit through that again.

* * *

Sunday passed, and Delphi was pleased that she seemed to have gotten away with it. Not only had she failed to get any strongly worded letters back from Narcissa about her lack of response, but Sunday breakfast passed without any Howlers shrieking about her visit to Hagrid's hut, either. If she was lucky, no one had noticed that she'd even gone down there at all.

Of course, Delphi's luck was on the outs, lately.

At Monday breakfast, everything fell apart. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle stalked toward her place at the end of the Slytherin table like Dementors slinking through the fog.

"Lestrange!" Draco's voice sounded colder than she'd ever heard it before. Her head snapped upright, and she glared at him as his friends flanked her. The other students started to watch. "What is wrong with you?"

He was being loud. Far too loud. Heads turned, mostly at the Slytherin table, but a few Ravenclaws glanced her way, too. "Nothing. What's wrong with you?"

"Personally, Delphi, I don't care what insanity has taken hold of you. As far as I'm concerned, you'd lost your mind, and that's that. But my mother won't leave well enough alone, and you apparently haven't written her back--no doubt ashamed of yourself--so I've had to be the one to tell her the truth."

Delphi's hands shook. She slipped them into her pocket, and her fingers curled around her wand. "And what truth would that be, exactly?"

"That you're aiming for disownment." He sneered down at her. "When Madame Lestrange finds out that you've been palling around with Harry Potter, a Weasley, and that ridiculous oaf of a groundskeeper, she's going to blast you off the family tree once and for all. And when that happens... well, I'll certainly never speak to you again." Somehow, he seemed to think that this was more serious than any of his other threatened consequences.

Vaguely, Delphi wondered how he'd found out about her visit to Hagrid. "That'll be a relief," muttered Delphi, though the sentiment hurt. She _loved_ him; he'd been her best friend for nearly twelve years.

Draco's sneer was vicious and hideously cruel. "Oh, I forgot. You're practically a Weasley now, aren't you? We'll be better off without you in the family, of course. Mother and Father will be so relieved that they don't have to deal with you anymore."

Delphi was horrified by the feeling of tears in her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. When had Draco learned to be so hurtful? And when had he started wanting to hurt _her_?

"Go away, Draco," said Delphi, trying very hard to sound bored.

"You're a traitor, Delphi," her cousin hissed. Delphi's fist clenched around her wand. "I can't believed you'd go so far for some stupid bet. But congratulations--you won! I'm sure it's worth giving up your whole future for."

Her jaw clenched. "So you owe me a favor then, don't you?"

"It's the last one I'll ever do you, you can count on that."

"Fine. I'll let you know when I want to collect it." She tried so very, very hard to seem dismissive. "You can go now, Malfoy."

The look he gave her was of malice and disgust, but he left. Crabbe and Goyle trailed behind him, glaring dangerously. Though the lunch hour was only half over, Delphi gathered up her things and walked as calmly as she could from the room, trying both to avoid looking at any of the curious faces around her--and to avoid letting any emotion show.

Delphi knew she was going to cry, but she didn't plan to do it where anyone else would see.


	6. The Only One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I promised, another short- _ish_ (as in, less than 5k) chapter. The next one should be longer, so it won't be out quite as quickly. It _might_ be out before New Year's, but I also have a short story that I need to finish before I can get back to work on the chapter, so we'll see how that goes.
> 
> This chapter uses some phrasing (and especially dialogue) from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ , particularly in the flying lesson scene. (I'm gonna be honest: I legitimately spent a while trying to figure out if I could just skip the flying lesson scene. I find Quidditch boring, a lot of it is just rehashing canon, and it doesn't exactly serve the weightiest purpose in the plot... but the chapter felt more awkward without the scene than it felt boring with it in, so I just decided to keep it.)
> 
> Also, some quick reassurance: I will be doing my best to avoid writing Delphini in such a way that she usurps Hermione's role in the group. There will by necessity be some overlap in how they fit into things, given that they share several character strengths, but I will be doing my best to compensate by thoroughly exploring both of their contrasting character flaws. Similarly, since I've gone ahead and added "Extremely Slow Burn Harry Potter/OFC" to the tags (and when I say "extremely", I mean _extremely_ ), I just want to assure everyone that there will be no mistreatment of Ginny in this series. I like her as a character, I like her relationship with Harry, and I will be making sure that she gets her due. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I understand the danger of having an original female character accidentally sideline (or worse, demonize) the canonical female characters, and I will be trying my best to make sure that doesn't happen.

Delphi's classes resumed for the second week of term. History of Magic did not improve, and she spent the majority of the period reading. As she had long since finished _A History of Magic_ , she had taken _A History of Wizarding Wars in Europe_ from the library. It had proven a bit less interesting than she'd hoped, and she kept getting distracted by the furious scratching of Hermione Granger's quill as she took far more notes than could have ever been necessary.

In charms, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw first years were still changing the colours of various objects. Most of the class was finally having success with it, changing their parchment from its natural tan to the rest of the rainbow in turns. Some students--namely, Delphi and several of the Ravenclaws--had even moved on to recolouring their robes.

Potions on Monday saw them brewing a Stomach-Soothing Solution. If done properly, these were supposed to be a very pretty periwinkle when finished; only Delphi's and Hermione's potions came out that particular colour, though most others managed at least a shade of blue. Neville and Seamus, though, ended up with a kind of thick, black tar.

Herbology, too, remained dull. They were now discussing common pests like flobberworms, and a Ravenclaw boy named Terry Boot nearly made Delphi hurl by singing the praises of flobberworm fritters.

Transfiguration was better. As Delphi and Hermione had already turned their matchsticks into needles many times over, they had moved on to turning those needles into quills. McGonagall seemed impressed by the both of them, but Delphi didn't appreciate the competition for best in the class.

Defense, again, was the last class on Tuesday. Delphi hadn't spoken to Professor Quirrell since his little meeting with her over the weekend, and, truth be told, she rather hoped to keep her distance. It struck her as very odd, his interest in her. He wasn't her Head of House, and he hadn't been the one to catch her fighting with Parkinson and Bullstrode. Why, then, did he even care? Had his praise been genuine, and why, exactly, had he told her to be cautious of Harry?

She didn't expect to find any answers in class, though. After they turned in their homework--essays on the practical uses of _lumos_ and _nox_ \--Quirrell rose from the seat behind his desk and approached the blackboard. As the previous week's classes had taught her, the professor made copious use of it. Likely because of his stutter, he didn't lecture very much in class. He spoke to the students, of course, but he had a tendency to give them details and questions in the form of writing upon the blackboard. Today, the premise of his lesson appeared as soon as his wand tapped the slightly dusty slate.

"Dark and Magical Creatures," the swirling script read. Beneath it, a list: "Boggart, Vampire, Werewolf, Inferi, Basilisk, Lethifold, Hidebehind."

"W-what," Professor Quirrell began, "c-can you t-tell me about these?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Delphi's followed.

"M-Miss Lestrange?"

"A werewolf is a witch or a wizard whose is cursed with turning into a wolf upon the night of the full moon. Lycanthropy is passed on via the bite of a werewolf, which is usually fatal if not treated. If the victim does survive, though, they'll be cursed for the rest of their lives. There's no cure, so many who are bitten refuse to be treated. They'd rather die."

"Y-yes, Miss Lestrange. And y-you, Miss G-Granger?"

"The vampire is a creature classified among the Living Dead. They drink blood, they have an aversion to garlic, and they're so famous that even Muggles know about them."

"W-well done. A-anyone else?" No one raised their hands. Delphi offered hers again. "M-Miss Lestrange?"

"An Inferi is a reanimated corpse. It's also among the Living Dead, but of course that's something of a misnomer. The dead can't come back to life; it's impossible. An Inferi has nothing at all to do with the person that it used to be; it's just dead meat enchanted to walk around and attack people. But it won't decay like a regular body would, and you can only stop them by complete dismemberment or fire."

Hermione's hand was back up. She had an oddly determined look on her face. "And M-Miss Granger?"

"The boggart is a shape-shifting non-being and not technically a magical creature. They like to hide in small, dark spaces--like inside cupboards and under beds--and when you see them, they assume the shape of your very worst fear. Because of this, no one knows what they look like. Just by looking at them, you change their shape."

Delphi's fist shot into the air. She realized what Hermione was doing now. "Miss L-Lestrange?"

"The Basilisk is an enormous, venomous snake originally bred by Herpo the Foul. They're extremely illegal and believed to be extinct. And they're very, very lethal. Even looking at one was supposed to be enough to kill someone."

"G-good," Professor Quirrell said, though he was now looking a little confused by the back-and-forth he was enabling. "And M-Miss Granger, again?

"The hidebehind is a forest creature that hunts humans. It looks a bit like a bear, but it's very skinny, and it likes to sneak up on its victims by hiding behind trees while it creeps along. Supposedly, they're a cross between a demiguise and a ghoul, but it's possible they're just a myth."

Quirrell called upon Delphi before her hand was even back in the air, and Delphi positively glowed at this chance to have the last word. "And the Lethifold, also known as the living shroud, is another Dark creature that eats people. They have a lot of similarities to Dementors, except the Lethifolds eat flesh and are considered creatures, while the Dementor gets its strength from emotions and from souls and is considered a nonbeing, like the boggart. Still, it's fascinating to think that there might be a connection between them."

"W-well done, girls," Quirrell said. His smile twitched. "F-five points each t-to Gryffindor and S-S-Slytherin!"

As Quirrell's lesson went on, Delphi found herself glancing down the row of desks toward Hermione. She didn't look quite as pleased as Delphi felt. Still, Delphi couldn't help being a bit impressed beneath all the annoyance. Hadn't Hermione said her family was all-Muggle? And yet she already knew so much about the wizarding world... she was putting in effort, more so than just about anyone else in any of Delphi's classes, and it was clearly paying off. Spells came easy to Delphi, and she enjoyed both reading and doing the homework that they'd been given so far. And as for Hermione... Delphi couldn't help thinking that she and Hermione had quite a bit more in common than Delphi wanted to admit.

Maybe... maybe there was more to Granger than just being a Mudblood.

* * *

Wednesday morning was a blur of classes. Throughout History of Magic and Transfiguration, Delphi found herself paying a startling amount of attention to Hermione Granger. Now that the thought had occurred to her, she simply couldn't get it out of her head. She _did_ have an awful lot in common with Hermione, didn't she? They hadn't gotten off on the right foot, of course--for all their similarities, they were still _desperately_ different in many ways--but Delphi had to admit that she hadn't exactly given Hermione much of a chance, either. Delphi had judged her immediately, discounting her completely before she'd had a chance to show Delphi just how good a witch she really was. But... Merlin, Delphi had been so worried about just visiting Hagrid on Saturday, and for all his flaws, he at least wasn't openly a Mudblood. No matter how brilliant or talented Hermione was, actually befriending her would be a Slytherin social faux pas so far beyond the pale that Delphi had no trouble imagining the horror on Lucius and Narcissa's faces if word ever got back to them about it.

Still, though... Delphi hadn't made any female friends so far. She didn't expect to make any within Slytherin now. Ever since the owlery, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bullstrode had taken to gossiping openly about Delphi when they knew she was just within earshot. Daphne and Tracey were a bit better, but they clearly didn't approve of her, either; they just had the decency to be a bit more subtle about it. And as for Lilly Moon... she'd hardly said more than a few words to anyone, and frankly, she was just kind of _creepy_.

The Ravenclaw girls were still a possibility, but if there was one thing that she'd noticed about Hogwarts by now, it was that all the Houses tended to stick with their own. Slytherins were the most unlikely to approach those outside their House, but the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and even Hufflepuffs were barely any better. Delphi didn't know if it would even be possible to make friends with the Ravenclaw girls now. But when it came to Gryffindor... there, Delphi had an in.

* * *

At three-thirty on Thursday afternoon, the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins made their way down to the Quidditch pitch. Twenty broomsticks sat upon the ground in two carefully placed rows, and the flying instructor, Madam Hooch, waited for them nearby. At a glance, she seemed a fierce woman with iron-gray hair and a distinct resemblance to a hawk. Her eyes, in fact, were yellow.

Impatience seemed her primary characteristic. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" They'd hardly even arrived before she began to rush them. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry and Ron took a pair of brooms side by side. Delphi made to join them, but a sharp look from Madam Hooch sent her back to the Slytherin side. She took the broom at the end of the line, and Pansy sneered as she passed.

Once they were situated, Madam Hooch went on. "Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'"

They all did. Delphi's broom snapped to her hand, as did Harry's and Ron's across from her. Hermione, standing beside Neville Longbottom, looked devastated; her broom had barely budged. (Neville's hadn't moved at all.) Those whose brooms hadn't obeyed them tried again; Neville, in the end, was the only one who had to literally pick his broom up off the ground.

Madam Hooch walked along the rows as everyone mounted their brooms. She stopped by Delphi to correct her grip, and Delphi heard her do the same to Draco shortly thereafter. Draco, however, tried to argue with her, and he earned nothing but scorn for his efforts. Harry and Ron grinned, delighted.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise no more than a meter, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle--three--two--"

And before she even got to one, Neville was in the air.

Truth be told, Delphi was surprised. She hadn't thought Neville would be able to get off the ground at all, and yet there he was, rising up into the air like a firework. He looked petrified, and Madam Hooch yelled for him to come back down in a very scolding voice, as if she thought he was doing this on purpose. And then-- Delphi gasped--

Neville hit the ground, his broomstick heading off into the sky without him.

Now, Madam Hooch looked properly upset. She muttered something as she surveyed Neville, whose hand hung limp. She helped him to his feet and turned back to the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwars before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

Delphi bit her lower lip. She had protest on the tip of her tongue. Surely it made more sense for another student to escort Neville to the hospital wing? Wouldn't that be better than leaving an entire class unsupervised with what had just proven to be surprisingly dangerous toys?

But before Delphi could decide whether to keep her mouth shut or not, Madam Hooch and Neville were already gone. And Draco was laughing.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped a Gryffindor girl that remembered as one of the twins from the Sorting, and as Pansy began to mock her, Draco's eyes fixed on something in the grass.

"Look," he said, picking up whatever it was. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." A little glass bauble gleamed within his palm.

"Give that here, Malfoy."

Harry spoke so quietly that it seemed almost impossible that they'd all heard him. But he was Harry Potter. When he said something, everyone listened.

The class fell silent. Draco's grin was wicked. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about up a tree?" He was on his broom before Harry could stop him. "Come and get it, Potter!" he yelled from mid-air.

Harry took the bait.

"No!" Hermione shouted, but it was no use. Harry didn't seem to be listening to her warnings about getting them into trouble. He had a fierce, determined look on his face as he mounted his own broom and set off after Draco.

Delphi felt a strange sense of pride rising inside her. Draco had always bragged about his flying abilities, but Harry... Harry was _brilliant_. He swooped through the air like he'd been born a bird, and Delphi laughed delightedly at the stricken look on Draco's face.

They were high above the class now, shouting at each other. Delphi hurried to Ron's side. "Does he know what he's doing?" she whispered.

Ron seemed transfixed. "Doubt it. But look at him! He's a natural."

Way up in the sky, Draco raised one hand high and threw the glass ball as hard as he could. Harry shot after it, and Delphi felt a stab of fear. He was going so fast, far too fast for her comfort--and then he was diving down, racing toward the ground as people all around Delphi started to scream. Delphi covered her mouth with her hands, convinced that she was about to watch Harry crash far worse than Neville had--

\--and then Harry caught the ball.

Delphi's half-scream, half-laugh of triumph was so loud that she nearly missed the boom of McGonagall's wrath as she roared Harry's name across the field. Delphi hadn't thought the woman capable of moving half as fast as she was now sprinting toward them.

" _Never_ \--" she gasped as she approached. She was so furious that she could barely speak. "--in all my time at Hogwarts--how _dare_ you--might have broken your neck--"

Everyone launched into protests at once, including Delphi. "Draco was the one who--"

"That's _enough_ , all of you! Potter, follow me, now."

"Professor!" Delphi tried again as McGonagall lead Harry off like a misbehaving dog. "Really, he didn't--"

But McGonagall just ignored her, and Delphi fell silent. They were gone even quicker than Hooch and Neville had been. Left behind and unpunished, Draco laughed even harder than before.

"He's going to be expelled!" he crowed.

"Shut it, Malfoy," growled Ron.

Draco smirked. "Or what, Weasley? You're already two Gryffindors down, and the lesson's only half over. Let's see... one in the hospital wing, one getting punished by McGonagall. What d'you think'll happen to you, if you try your luck?"

"I'll kick your bleeding arse, that's what!"

Delphi seized him by the arm. "He's not worth it, Ron. Don't let him get under your skin. Harry's not going to be expelled for this. I'm sure it'll just be detentions."

"He shouldn't be in trouble at all! That prat was the one who started it."

Delphi agreed, but she knew better than to say so. "Harry's the one that got caught. And you will be too if you try anything--look."

Hooch was on her way back. Her sharp eyes scanned the guilty faces of the crowd. "What happened?" she demanded. "Where's Potter?"

"With McGonagall," said Draco smugly. "He didn't listen to you, Professor."

Well, Delphi wouldn't stand for that. "Neither did Draco, professor. He stole something of Neville's and took off on his broom. Harry was just trying to get it back."

Hooch stared at Delphi for a moment, then narrowed her eyes in Draco's direction. "Detention, Mr. Malfoy. We can discuss the details after class."

Draco fixed Delphi with a look of hatred. It still stung to see him look at her like that, but she smiled in spite of it. Seeing Harry beat Draco at flying very might go down as one of the greatest memories of her life.

* * *

Delphi didn't see Harry again until dinnertime. And even then, she would've missed him if not for the worrying sight of Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle heading for the Gryffindor table.

It was a split-second decision. She got up from her seat and followed the three of them to where Harry and Ron sat. 

"--train back to the Muggles?" She heard Draco taunting Harry as she approached.

Harry, though, could clearly hold his own. "You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you." Delphi felt her respect for Harry rise considerably. This was not the first time he'd stood up to the mountains known as Crabbe and Goyle, and it was just as satisfying as the last.

Draco wasn't nearly as impressed. "I'd take you on anytime on my own. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only--"

"Excuse me," Delphi interrupted, her voice loud enough to cut through even one of Draco's tirades. He whirled about and narrowed his eyes at the sight of her. "I think you might be lost, Malfoy. The Slytherin table's over that way."

"And what are you doing here, Lestrange? Last I checked, you were pretending to be a Slytherin, yourself."

She laughed, determined not to let this barb bother her. "Pretending?" she repeated. "If that's the way you see it, sure. And that masquerade of mine gives me a pretty good idea that you're somewhere you shouldn't be. Somewhere you're not wanted."

Draco let out a breath of laughter, quiet--and dangerous. "So are you, Delphi. They don't want you over here, either, do they?" He laughed again, louder this time, and turned back to Ron and Harry. "If you've got any of that courage Gryffindors are always bragging about, you can meet me in the trophy room tonight at midnight. It won't be locked. And we can find out who's the better wizard after all. Now out of the way, Lestrange."

Goyle bumped roughly into Delphi as he passed. Rubbing her shoulder, she turned to Harry and Ron. "Don't listen to him. If I know Draco--and I do, since we've lived together for the past eleven years--he won't even be there if you show up. He'll probably send Filch or Snape or someone to come after you. It's not worth the detention you'll get from it, trust me."

Harry's eyes met hers. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"We can't just not go!" protested Ron, but Delphi shook her head.

"He won't be there, Ron. If you want to duel him, try to get a dueling club started up or jump him in the corridors. Don't let him bait you into wandering the school at night." She glanced over her shoulder. People were watching. "I better get back to my table. I just wanted to make sure you guys were okay."

She had just turned to go when Harry cleared his throat. "Why _don't_ you sit with us?"

Her brows lifted as she glanced back over her shoulder. "I... don't know if that's the best idea." She suddenly wanted nothing more in the world than to sit down. "Thank you for offering, but..." Merlin's beard, she wanted it. "I'll think about it, okay? Maybe... maybe some other time?"

Harry nodded, but there was actual disappointment on his face. And even though she was walking back to exile among the Slytherins, Delphi's heart soared.

* * *

The next morning, Draco cornered Delphi as they headed to breakfast. As he herded her into an shadowy corner of a dungeon corridor, Crabbe and Goyle followed menacingly behind.

"What's the matter with you, Lestrange?" demanded Draco.

"What have I done now?"

"You got me a detention!"

"And how did I do that, exactly?"

"Filch thinks I lied to him!"

Delphi scoffed. "You're admitting it was a setup, then? You just wanted to get Harry and Ron in trouble."

"You didn't think I was really going to duel them, did you?"

"Of course not! Who do you think warned them not to go?"

"You, obviously," snarled Draco. "Potter and Weasley are thick as bricks. But you know me better than that. So, yeah, _what is the matter with you_? When are you going to drop this stupid _shite_?"

Delphi's brows lifted. She'd heard him swear like that before, but only once. "Just leave me alone, okay? You've made how you feel about me quite clear already, thanks."

Delphi pushed roughly past him, and she took a wide berth around Crabbe and Goyle. "Fine!" Draco shouted at her retreating back. "Be that way, then! I'm not going to forget this, Lestrange!"

She made a very rude gesture over her shoulder at him and stormed back to the castle.

* * *

In Potions after lunch, Delphi made sure to glare at Draco as she sat down beside Harry and Ron. Hermione Granger filled the seat on her other side. Delphi stared at her for a moment, resolve crystallizing. _Fuck_ Draco, she thought viciously. And _fuck_ the Malfoys. If their family bond was really weak enough to be destroyed by a single friendship, then it wasn't worth keeping in the first place. And without it... Delphi was free. She could do whatever she wanted. She could be friends with Harry Potter, the Weasleys, Hagrid, even Hermione or _Dumbledore_ if that's what she pleased. If Draco's vicious words to her lately were all true and the people she loved the most had already turned on her, what more did she have to lose? And if they hadn't _already_ turned on her and were just the verge of doing so... then let it be a test. If they disowned her over her choice of friends, then they didn't deserve to be her family at all. She'd disown the lot herself.

* * *

Delphi turned down Harry and Ron's invitation to join in the courtyard during free period. She knew they would still want to talk about Quidditch and brooms and Draco's attempt to trick them, but Delphi had other plans. And it actually felt good to be the one turning them down for a change.

The library was almost empty this time of day, but Delphi found her target at a little table nestled in the back of the room.

Delphi gathered her nerves, and she walked over to where Hermione Granger sat alone.

"Hello," she said cautiously. Hermione looked up from an enormous book, startled. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

Though obviously bewildered, Hermione shook her head. "Be my guest."

"Thanks," said Delphi. She took the seat across from the other girl. "I'm sorry if I interrupted your reading. You come to the library a lot, don't you?"

Hermione nodded. She held a bit of suspicion in her eyes. "I like books," she said simply. "You're here a lot, too."

"I'm rather fond of books myself. And libraries, too."

Hermione hesitated. She glanced around the room; there was no one else nearby. "You know," she said quietly, "some of the boys in my house have warned me to stay away from you."

"From me specifically?"

"Well, Slytherins. They said that Slytherins don't usually like people like me. That you're all a bit, well... racist, I suppose. That you hate people who come from Muggle families." She fixed Delphi with a surprisingly piercing stare. "You do remember that my family are Muggles, don't you?"

Delphi's throat felt suddenly very parched. "I do," she murmured. "And... and those boys were right. Slytherins--a lot of us, at least--really do care about blood status. They think people like you--people who don't care about blood status and people from Muggle backgrounds especially--aren't good enough. That you're not really wizards, or that you shouldn't be."

Hermione sat rigidly still, her expression cold and unfriendly. "And I suppose you agree with them?"

Delphi licked her drying lips. She wasn't entirely sure how much of what she was about to say was even true... but she knew some of it was, at least, and so what harm was there in going all the way? "Honestly? I thought I did. It's what I was always told. But, you know... Now I'm starting to think that it isn't true. That... maybe there's not really much wrong with being Muggleborn after all."

"Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"You do." Hermione looked startled. "You're not what I was told a Muggleborn would be like. You're obviously a really good witch--easily as good as me. And if a Muggleborn witch can be as good as a pureblood... In what way are you less than me? It doesn't make any sense." Now that she'd gotten started, she didn't seem able to stop herself. Half-formed ideas that she hadn't even realized she'd begun to harbor spilled from her lips. If the Malfoys could hear her now, they really would disown her. "You're smart, and you're talented, and I think that should be what really matters. Why should I care who your parents were?"

Hermione stared at her. Then-- "You really think I'm that good a witch?"

"Definitely. Haven't the other Gryffindors told you so?"

"I don't think they like me very much," whispered Hermione. Her voice cracked with emotion, as if she'd been holding this back for a long time. "I've been wondering if maybe it's not just the Slytherins who are prejudiced."

And now Delphi understood why Hermione was always in the library alone. "You don't have any friends in your House, either, do you?" She tried for a smile, but she didn't think she pulled it off. "I'm glad it's not just me."

"Is that why you're always with Harry Potter and his friend? A lot of the Gryffindors have been wondering. Everyone seems to care an awful lot about what Harry does."

"I had to make a choice," Delphi said quietly. "I could be friends with the other Slytherins, or I could be friends with him. I chose him. ...I still don't know if I made the right decision."

Hermione frowned. "He seems nice. And the other Slytherins don't seem like anyone you should want to be friends with in the first place."

Delphi just shrugged. "I can certainly see why you'd say so. And at this point... I don't think I disagree."

"So why are you _really_ sitting here with me?"

"Because... well, because the Slytherin girls don't want anything to do with me. And as much as I want to be friends with Harry and Ron, I think I'm going to get pretty lonesome if I never get to talk to any other girls."

Hermione blinked as if this possibility had never quite occurred to her. "You want to be my friend? You're serious? Why me? No one else..." She fell silent with pink-tinged cheeks.

Delphi smiled at her. "Well, if you don't mind me saying so, I think we're easily the best students in the year. Who else would be my first choice for a potential friend?"

"So it's not just that I'm alone, is it? That I'm an easy choice? You don't just think I'm _desperate_ , do you?"

"Well, it certainly helps that there's no one sitting beside you telling me to go away, but other than that, no. Look, Granger... I need friends, and you probably want some, too. I don't care about your background. I don't care if you don't have any other friends. I just want to know if you're interested in being mine."

Hermione broke into a smile. "I do. I'm just... very surprised." Her grin faltered. "And this isn't some kind of trick?"

Delphi shook her head, smiling as sincerely as she could. She still wondered if she was doing the right thing--but now, she was committed. "It's not. I promise. Look, how about you sit next to me in Defense Against the Dark Arts? And, you know, we can hang out in the library. Maybe... well, I suppose we can't have our meals together with me stuck at the Slytherin table, but... We'll make do. You're _sure_ you want to be my friend?"

Hermione beamed. "Definitely."

Delphi relaxed in her chair, feeling accomplished. "I'm so glad."

In for a penny, in for a pound.


	7. The Art of Teaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The art of teaching is the art of assisting discovery." -Mark Van Doren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some non-canonical details about the Hogwarts founders (particularly Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw, as Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor are already pretty well fleshed-out). Also, there are noncanonical books titled in this section; some of these again were created or inspired by the Bookspinner at Seventh Sanctum. Regarding the last-mentioned book in particular, it was originally going to be titled something to do with "First Wizarding War", except that such a title wouldn't have made a huge amount of sense. Just as WWI wasn't WWI until there was a WWII to follow it up, calling what happened between 1970 and 1981 the "First Wizarding War" doesn't make much sense until there's a "Second Wizarding War" to denote the earlier one as the first instead of the only. So as of the in-story year 1991, I'm not yet referring to what happened during Voldemort's first rebellion as the "First Wizarding War" (though I almost certainly will later).
> 
> Also of note, some phrasing included in this chapter is taken from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_.

Delphi and Hermione spent a lot of time in the library that weekend, and Delphi wasn't sure which of them was more relieved to see that their rather awkward stab at friendship wasn't so misguided after all.

"What're you reading?" Delphi asked as she joined Hermione on Saturday morning. They sat down once again at the little table where their friendship had been forged.

Hermione tilted the cover of her book to face Delphi. " _Mysteries of Ancient Magic_."

"Is it any good?"

"It's alright, I suppose. When they say mysteries, they do mean mysteries. There are quite a lot of questions in this, but I don't think I've yet read a single actual answer."

Delphi laughed. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Why don't you ditch it, then?"

"It's not all bad. Even an unanswered mystery is interesting--a puzzle waiting to be solved! Besides, there's a bit of real information here; tidbits about ancient beasts that even Muggles have legends about. The minotaur, the pegasus, even the cerberus..."

"Maybe I'll give it a look after you're done." Delphi reached into her bag to check her own books. She'd finished _A History of Wizarding Wars in Europe_ last night. What else did she have...? Her fingers brushed _The Art of Dueling_.

Delphi laid the book out on the table. "What have you got?" Hermione asked, nodding toward it.

"Book about dueling."

"Not because of Malfoy, I hope!"

"Malfoy?" repeated Delphi."What's it got to do with him?"

"I heard him the other day, you know. Talking to Ron and Harry, trying to lure them out after curfew for an attempt at a duel. You were right to talk them out of it!"

Delphi smiled gratefully. "Well, I turned out to be right about it. Draco never planned to show up. He's too much of a coward to actually duel anyone. Not unless he's sure he's going to win..."

"So you're not planning to duel him yourself, then?"

"Merlin, no! This was just a gift."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "A gift? From who?"

Delphi wasn't entirely sure why she lied, but she did it. "Draco's dad, actually. My Uncle Lucius."

"You're still on good terms with him?"

Delphi laughed, though there was nothing funny about it. "Not for much longer, I'm sure."

Hermione frowned, and Delphi quickly turned her attention to the book. The less said about her failing relationship with the Malfoys, the better she would feel. Hermione seemed to understand this, as she said nothing more.

* * *

Delphi had always thought that there wasn't much to know about wizard's duels. There was the fight between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, and there were other historical duels of significance, but beyond that, who really cared about obscure historical scabbles? Delphi had always assumed that most duels were pointlessly flashy shows of advanced but very safe and boring magic fought over petty nonsense that didn't matter to her a whit.

After _The Art of Dueling_ , though... Delphi could see that she had been wrong. Wizard's duels were sport _and_ war; fights of rigid honor, prodigious skill, and even lethal intentions. She read about magic she could only dream about performing herself--charms and transfigurations and curses that made her mind race with possibility. She read about the Silver Spears, the mythic Deathstick, and the sometimes unexplainable things that could happen if a spell cast in a duel went wrong.

Delphi had finished reading it, cover to cover, by afternoon on Friday. She sat through dinner feeling more anxious than ever, casting what she hoped were furtive glances toward the staff table, where Quirrell sat uncomfortably at Professor Snape's side. Should she do as he had asked her, she wondered? She had finished the book; what did Quirrell intend to offer her now? Her suspicion was as piqued as her curiosity.

After the meal, Delphi steered herself right to his office door. She still didn't quite think it was a good idea... but she was very interested to see how it would go.

* * *

The door swung open about thirty seconds after she knocked. "M-Miss Lestrange," he said. "I h-hadn't exp-p-pected you!"

He waved for her to come inside, and Delphi stepped cautiously into the little room. "I finished the book, professor."

Quirrell flinched--then smiled. "Very good, Miss Lestrange. I'm pleased to hear that; I take it you enjoyed it, then?"

"I did, sir."

"Good. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you finished it already. I can see how eager you are to learn." His smile faltered very slightly, but only for a moment. "Perhaps a history book this time?"

Delphi simply smiled back at him. She wasn't going to influence this at all, if she could help it. The more information he gave her of his own accord, the more clues to his motives she would have.

Quirrell plucked a book from the overstuffed shelf behind his desk. "You will be interested in this, I think," he said, holding it out to her.

 _The Secrets of the Hogwarts Four_ , the cover read. If there was any connection between it and _The Art of Dueling_ , she didn't see it.

"Thank you, sir," Delphi said as she took the book in hand. "I'll read it right away."

"I hope so, Delphini. There's plenty more I hope to teach you, just so long as you're willing to learn."

The word _why?_ sat upon the tip of her tongue, but she knew better than to give it voice. She doubted he would offer her any more clear answers now than he had before.

"Thank you, professor," she said again. "I'll let you know just as soon as I'm done..."

* * *

 _The Secrets of the Hogwarts Four_ indeed had nothing in common at all with _The Art of Dueling_ , but Delphi didn't mind. Again, Quirrell seemed to have struck gold for her. The book was fascinating, delving far deeper into the myths and legends of the founders than even _Hogwarts: A History_. Delphi read about the Chamber of Secrets, the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, the legendary Sword of Gryffindor, and the fabled Feast of Helga Hufflepuff. She read about Salazar Slytherin's gift of Parseltongue, the little hamlet of Godric's Hollow, Hufflepuff's inexplicable adoration of house-elves, and the potentially prophetic dreams of Rowena Ravenclaw.

She returned to Quirrell three days later, receiving this time _Magic of Myth and Legend_. It went on about spells, relics, even magical creatures so powerful that they couldn't possibly have ever been real. The stories told of curses that could be cast upon entire armies at a time, of ancient wands more powerful than even the Wand of Destiny, of creatures that could alter reality with merely a thought, and of mystic locations so old that they predated language--and verbal spells. Delphi still didn't see the connection, but she was fascinated nevertheless.

Next came _The Oft-Forgotten Arts_ , and this brought her a bit of pause. The spells therein were a bit more practical--magic that she might actually be able to perform herself one day, provided she ever felt confident enough to try. But they were Dark spells, the kind of magic she wouldn't want to get caught practicing at Hogwarts. Much of it was rituals, old magic from the time of the Greeks and the Romans and the Celts, and all of it was as fascinating as everything Quirrell had given her before.

After that was _Magical Domination_ , and Delphi began to think she might know what was going on.

She should have seen it sooner. Now that it occurred to her, it made absolutely perfect sense. Quirrell was not simply interested in defending against the Dark Arts; he, Quirrell, the meek and stuttering professor who could barely make it through a class without frightening himself, was interested in the Dark Arts themselves. And as this occurred to her, so did something else--something that she couldn't believe she had missed before now. It was what had been bothering her after that very first meeting with him, when he had given her the dueling book: Quirrell almost never stuttered when they were alone. His demeanor changed depending on who was watching him, and so it seemed the persona of the meek, frightened, barely-competent teacher was mere obfuscation. Why he was performing this masquerade, though, Delphi could fathom no ideas.

"What are you hiding, professor?" Delphi muttered as she cracked her new book open.

She was going to get to the bottom of this little mystery, one way or another. This was _exactly_ the kind of intrigue she'd been hoping for.

* * *

It was the Friday before Halloween when Delphi finished the book. She had plowed through it at breakneck speed, eager to glean every bit of information she could from it before she returned to Quirrell. She didn't plan to interrogate him, not exactly... just to press him a bit. And there was something very exciting about the prospect of it. Quirrell was giving her glimpses of his secrets, of his true persona behind the mask, and in these recurring gifts to her, he too was giving her glimpses of his motivation. She knew already that asking him outright questions would result in no true answers; his responses would be only platitudes, reasonable-sounding lies that would warrant as little further investigation as did his meek and stuttering personality. But behind it all would be the truth, and if she couldn't get at the truth with her own directness, then she was left with methods more oblique. And that, then, was where the excitement lie: she would be playing a cat and mouse game with the truth, and that her opponent was an adult with far more skill than anyone else she could've set herself against... Well, if only she could be sure that there was no reason to fear any danger, then she might even find this _fun_.

With her bookbag carefully packed full of the books that Quirrell had given her thus far, Delphi forsook her lonely place at the Slytherin table and was there at the door to Quirrell's office right as he was leaving on his way to lunch.

"Professor!" she said, and he startled so badly that his head knocked into the open door.

"M-miss Lestrange," said the professor, hastily straightening his turban with a rather cowering wince. "H-how may I h-h-help you?"

"I've finished the book, professor. Is now not a good time?"

She knew it wasn't, of course. He was expected at lunch, and so interrupting his routine might help give her an advantage in the conversation ahead. She would take any she could get.

"Er..." Quirrell glanced over his shoulder, his eyes unfocused for a moment; he didn't seem to actually be looking at anything, but obviously wanted her to think he was checking something in the office behind his back. "C-come right in."

Pushing the door to his office open wider, he let her brush past him into the room. She took her usual seat on one side of his desk, and after shutting the door quite firmly behind her, Quirrell joined her on the opposite side.

Unlike their usual routine, Delphi didn't wait for him to retrieve any other books or ask her any questions. She turned her attention fully to her bookbag, paying him no mind at all as she pulled each of the books out one by one and set them upon the desk. _The Art of Dueling_. _The Secrets of the Hogwarts Four_. _Magic of Myth and Legend_. _The Oft-Forgotten Arts_. _Magical Domination_. Once each of them sat between herself and the professor, Delphi looked up to find him patiently waiting.

"You were right about these books, professor," she said. "I found all of them very interesting, if a bit disconnected from one another. Except the last two, of course. There was an obvious common thread there. And, when one really thinks about it, there _is_ something of a logical progression between the lot of them, isn't there?" She pointed at _The Art of Dueling_. "This one is about power." Next, she pointed at _The Secrets of the Hogwarts Four_. "This is about history." _Magic of Myth and Legend_. "This is about historical powers, but most of them fabled and unachievable. _The Oft-Forgotten Arts_ , though, that's about pursuing achievable power. _Dark_ power." Finally, she nodded toward _Magical Domination_. "And that one is about how to use it."

Quirrell stared at her for a long moment. There was a strange disconnect to him now; his posture was rigid and alert, as still as a cat watching an unsuspecting bird, but his eyes were once again unfocused. Even as his body language said that he was paying very close attention to her, his eyes seemed to reveal that his mind was as far from her as it could be. She didn't know what to make of it.

Then he licked his lips and blinked, and his vision became entirely focused upon Delphini. "Do you have a question, Miss Lestrange?"

Delphi paused. She wasn't going to press him today, after all, she realized. Letting him know that she was keeping up and catching on... that was enough for now. She shook her head. "No, sir. Not yet."

"Would you like another book, then?"

"I would very much."

Quirrell stood. With his back to her, he again returned to his bookshelf. She had noticed several meetings ago that this bookshelf was always changing, that there were always new books replacing the old. From these new books, Quirrell plucked out a tome and turned back to her. As she swept the first five out of the way, he set the sixth down in the space left behind. _Modern Civil War: The British Wizarding Conflict of 1970 - 1981_. Less subtle, that.

"If you're going to befriend Harry Potter," Quirrell said quietly, "then you need to know everything you possibly can. The position you are putting yourself in will not be an easy one."

"I know," Delphi said, "I just--"

Delphi's train of thought evaporated as a her eye caught on movement in the corner of the room. Her eyes widened at the unmistakable sight of Boros' slender little body slithering down along the leg of a globe stand. Before she could recover, Quirrell's gaze had followed Delphi's, and Delphi felt her heart pound in her chest as the professor caught sight of her pet. Snakes weren't exactly welcome at Hogwarts.

 _Well, I might as well make sure he's safe before I face the music,_ Delphi decided, and she rose from her seat to cross the room and take the little snake in hand. Boros coiled around her wrist immediately, hissing at her, but she pointedly ignored his words. She couldn't respond to him, not while anyone--least of all someone as enigmatic as Quirrell--was watching her. Feeling as if a target had quite suddenly been painted upon her back, Delphi walked back to her seat and waited for the inevitable.

"That's yours, then?" Quirrell asked. To Delphi's surprise, he didn't seem upset with her. If anything, he almost sounded _amused_. "I've seen that little snake more than once since the start of term. This castle is practically overflowing with owls; that little thing is brave, indeed. What have you named him?"

"Ouroboros."

"The snake that eats its tail. A symbol of immortality, associated closely with the alchemical arts. Do you have an interest in alchemy?"

This was not at all how she had expected this conversation to go. "I... have an interest in most magic, professor."

Quirrell smiled. "A refreshing attitude for a student. And your serpent seems just as inquisitive; I suppose he must have been exploring his new home. Have you been doing the same?"

Her brows lifted. Of all the things she expected to be accused of, this hadn't made the list. "No?"

"That surprises me. You clearly have quite the thirst for knowledge; you wouldn't be here in my office otherwise. And Hogwarts is ever the mystery. Even the greatest of witches and wizards who have walked its halls have solved few of its mysteries. I daresay that even the headmaster has yet to discover some of the secrets tucked away within these halls." He gave her a very knowing look. "And you, Delphini, seem like just the type of student who would want to ferret out as many of these secrets as she could."

Delphi stared at him. With a few simple sentences, Quirrell had taken his encouragement to an entirely new level. Offering her any book containing the slightest hint of information on the Dark Arts was a step too far for a teacher to go in regards to a Hogwarts first year... and all but instructing one to explore the school, especially after Dumbledore himself explicitly warned against exploring certain forbidden corridors, was downright suspicious. Still... Delphi did _so_ enjoy having permission to break the rules.

"Have _you_ explored much of the school, sir?"

His smile remained enigmatically amused, and Delphi didn't know what to think of it. "I know a few secrets, yes. And I look forward to seeing which of them you manage to discover for yourself." He nodded toward the door. "Go, Delphi. Take the book and read it. It's important. Take your snake and keep a more careful eye on him--that's important, too. And while you're here, you should make Hogwarts your home. That might prove to be the most important thing of all."

Baffled as ever, Delphi had quite forgotten that she had intended this meeting to be the one when she finally got _answers_ out of Quirrell. That had not _at all just happened._

Gathering her books and shoving them back into the overtaxed depths of her bag, Delphi hastened to go. She hadn't learned anything that she'd hoped she would, and she couldn't help but think that she'd somehow lost ground in this conversation instead of having gain.

"Oh, and Delphini?" Her hand almost to the doorknob, Delphi stopped and looked back at Quirrell. He smiled. "Happy birthday."

Delphi hadn't told a single person. She had no idea how Quirrell had known.

* * *

Boros stayed within the safety of Delphi's sleeve for the rest of the day. She remained very aware of his presence against her skin during Snape's potions lesson in particular; Snape was perhaps the last person in the school who she wanted to find out about her snake. Being the head of Slytherin, she might've assumed he'd be the most understanding of this particular break of the rules... but given the detentions she'd already earned from him so far, she doubted he'd be willing to give her so much as the benefit of the doubt.

Dinner, too, came with a tense tinge of paranoia. Boros was no safer at the Slytherin table than he was in Snape's classroom. And Delphi still hadn't gotten the opportunity to talk to him. She planned to give him quite the lecture.

After dinner, Delphi stole her opportunity. With everyone retreating to their common rooms, she knew she wouldn't be missed. Even if anyone in the Slytherin common room noticed that she wasn't there, they surely wouldn't care about her absence--not unless someone like Pansy or Draco merely wanted to seize an opportunity to get her into trouble. Still, that was a risk she'd willingly take, and so she did; Delphi veered off from the crowd as the students meandered lazily from the Great Hall, and she slipped into an empty classroom at her first opportunity.

Only after very carefully checking that they were truly alone did Delphi roll back her long, black sleeve and peer reprovingly down at Boros. " _What was that?_ " she demanded. " _You were caught! Quirrell said he'd seen you more than once since we got here! What were you thinking?_ "

" _I have been careful,_ " Boros hissed rather indignantly. " _I might've been seen, but I've not been caught._ "

" _Anyone who saw you could've easily captured you! These are adults wizards we're talking about; a single spell, and you're cooked._ "

" _You needn't worry over me._ "

" _You're my friend, Boros, of course I worry. And I barely see you anymore. I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't have left you home after all!_ "

" _I have been enjoying Hogwarts_ ," Boros hissed quietly. " _There are secrets here. So many of them. Tunnels that I doubt your kind has traversed in centuries. Dangers beyond your wildest dreams. And only the rare place that I cannot find a way to enter by myself._ " He sounded smug now. " _You should come with me. Hogwarts must seem boring to you; you've only seen the boring places._ "

" _I'd rather you be bored and safe than excited all the way to an early death._ "

Boros flicked his tongue at her. " _You are not my nestmother. I go where I please. You may come or you may stay, but you will not stop me._ "

Delphi sighed, then shrugged. " _Fine. So tell me about some of these places you've explored. Have you stayed in the castle, then?_ "

" _Mostly,_ " said Boros. " _But I would rather show you where I've been. Come._ " He began slithering down her arm, the muscle of his body coiling around her limb until he reached the end of her hand and she lowered him gently onto the floor. He blended too well into the shadows of the room, and Delphi felt another twinge of worry. It would be too easy for someone to step on him out in the halls. And what about Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris? Surely she would love to find a little snake like him. For all cats had a better reputation than snakes by far, cats were the ones with the sadistic streak.

" _Are you sure about this?_ " Delphi hissed. " _Don't forget, I can't be caught speaking to you._ "

" _Then hold your tongue and follow me._ "

Delphi did as she was bid. She watched the little snake disappear beneath the crack of the classroom door, and she peeked warily into the corridor beyond it. No one was around but Boros, but who knew when that would change. This was foolish and dangerous and she was almost certain to be caught...

...and yet she emerged into the corridor with only a moment's hesitation, and she followed cautiously behind Boros as he led her into the unknown.

* * *

They walked for hours. Boros's tongue was always hard at work as he slithered along, scenting the air for potential threats or food. She watched him catch a mouse as he passed a long-abandoned classroom, and when she very quietly asked why he seemed so smug about it, he explained that Mrs. Norris had made a den for herself beneath the desk in there. He was pleased to have stolen dinner right from the edge of her territory.

He slithered more slowly after that, though. Delphi was on edge the whole time, panicking at the slightest sound around them. Boros went along without a care, hissing at her about which rooms were good for finding food, which had tiny little passageways through which he could travel (but she could not), and which statues, walls, and tapestries he suspected hid passageways that she might've been able to traverse if only she could figure out how to open them. He knew which halls were the most often patrolled by Filch, Mrs. Norris, and the other teachers; he knew which classrooms played host to mischievous students during free time, classes, and meals; and he even claimed to know the correct path right into the mysterious heart of the labyrinthine dungeons beneath the school. Delphi did not invite him to try proving that last claim; she had no interest in getting lost for all eternity down there.

" _We should head back_ ," Delphi finally hissed. She wasn't sure how long they'd been walking, but it must've been a very long time. She was starting to get tired; it must've been past curfew at least.

" _Not yet. I've saved the best for last._ "

" _What is it?_ " she whispered.

" _You'll see._ "

She wanted to tell him no, to remind him that she needed to be careful and do her best to avoid getting caught... but she wanted to get caught speaking Parseltongue even less than she wanted to get caught walking the halls. So she held her tongue. Let Boros show her one last thing, and then she would snatch him up to take him home.

* * *

Through twisting and turning corridors they went, up staircases and through doors until finally Delphi recognized where they were. " _Boros _," she hissed urgently. " _We can't be here. This is the third floor. That corridor is blocked off--and I'm sure there's a good reason.___ "

" _There is. I can smell it from here. It's... it's strange, whatever it is. I've never scented anything quite like it. I've been curious since I first realized it was there, but I've been wary of the room. Now I want to know._ "

" _I'm sure it's dangerous._ "

" _You've a wand._ "

Delphi sighed. Perhaps it wasn't fair to expect him to understand. How could a snake fathom that a wand in the hand of a newly twelve-year-old witch wasn't worth a thing in the face of true danger? To him, magic was simply power, the same as his fangs.

She chose not to fight him. " _What's the scent?_ "

" _Offensive and big._ "

 _Fine,_ Delphi thought. If he really wanted her to look, then she'd take a little look.

" _Alohamora_!" she whispered, half-heartedly hoping that the spell wouldn't work. The lock clicked, and Delphi very carefully opened the door. The scent of the room hit her hard. Boros had been right; it _was_ offensive. " _Lumos_!" The tip of her wand alighted, and she poked it carefully into the room.

As light touched the objects previously hidden in shadow, Delphi's mind struggled for a moment to make sense of what she could see. It was large and black, and it seemed at first to be something rather like a tree trunk. But the texture was all wrong, and the base seemed more like a boulder than anything resembling a tree. And then looked up instead of down, and every nerve in her body turned to ice.

It was a dog, and _big_ was an understatement. It towered over her, three-headed and horrible, and each of those supposed tree trunks were the furry black legs of the beast. The odor was a horrible mix of dog scent and foul breath, and the draft that she could feel wasn't a draft but its _breathing_. Delphi nearly dropped her wand as she clapped her hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming, and she barely had time to check for Boros's safety before she slammed the door shut on the beast and sank down to her knees.

"Holy _shit_ ," she breathed, quite forgetting that Boros couldn't understand her English words. "Holy shit, you idiot snake!" She turned to glare at him, and she found him safely watching far back from the door. " _Why didn't you tell me it was a dog?_ "

" _I had never smelled a dog so large. What is wrong with it?_ "

" _It's a cerberus!_ " She said the creature's name as harshly as the curse she'd just uttered. " _An_ extremely dangerous _three-headed dog!_ " Delphi stared at the door, uncomprehending. " _What is that doing in a school?_ "

Striding forward, she seized Boros before he could wriggle away from her. " _We are done exploring,_ " she hissed, tucking Boros back inside her robes. " _I don't know what kind of madman puts a cerberus in a school, but I don't want to find out._ "

Delphi took Boros straight back to her dormitory, ignoring his protests.

The snake was gone by the time she woke up.

* * *

The next morning, Delphi couldn't pretend she was surprised by Boros' disappearing act, no matter how annoying it might be. He wasn't a child, and if she was being perfectly honest, he was barely her pet. Willing as he was to accompany her to Hogwarts, he was used to wandering unchecked, and now that he had a whole new world to explore, she shouldn't have ever expected to control his wanderlust. Still, with him gone who knew where, she would be left worrying about him until she ran into him again.

Truth be told, though, she had bigger problems than her snake's little rebellion. Delphi's dreams that night had been heavily burdened by what she'd seen in the forbidden corridor. The overwhelming animal scent of a massive dog had settled upon her psyche like a toxic cloud; massive eyes, cold and calculating, had watched her with hungry intent; three enormous, drooling jaws snapped at her heels as the biggest beast she'd ever seen chased her deeper and deeper into the Underworld, until finally she came upon the river Styx and faced her doom without a single coin.

 _What_ , she wondered again as she hastily dressed, _is a cerberus doing in a school?_ It was unfathomable. Who had put it there, and why had no one stopped them? Dumbledore clearly knew about it, as he'd been the one to warn the students away from that corridor during the start-of-term feast. Did the other teachers know? Were they _all_ insane?

The corridors were crowded as Delphi made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. No one so much as looked at her; Delphi, the little Slytherin first year who hardly appeared to have any friends, was an utter non-entity to the majority of the school. She definitely didn't mind; it was far preferable to her reputation among the other Slytherin first years.

In the doorway to the Great Hall, Delphi paused. She was _bursting_ with this secret; she could see Harry and Ron seated at the far end of the Gryffindor table, and she bit her lip as she considered it. She would have to wait until after breakfast to tell them what she'd learned. Trying to tell them here would be too risky; unless she was able to practically whisper it in their ears, the threat of being overheard would be too great.

Delphi glanced toward the staff table. It was very early, and most of the teachers hadn't even arrived yet. Dumbledore was already there, and so was McGonagall, but many of the other seats--including Snape's--were empty.  
That was all the encouragement Delphi needed. She turned away from the Slytherin table and marched straight toward the Gryffindors.

A few older students glanced up at her as she walked past them, but she didn't pay them any mind. She had her eyes on the first years. Harry and Ron sat across from Neville and the other two first year boys; Hermione sat a few seats away, awkwardly ignored by--and ignoring--her fellow girls. Delphi smiled at Hermione, waved, and then sat down in the empty seat at Ron's side.

He gaped at her. And it wasn't just him. A not-insignificant section of the Gryffindor table had just gone silent, and Delphi felt every muscle in her body go tense and taut before she very deliberately forced herself to relax. What was the worst that could happen? She didn't mind getting a detention for this. And, hell, maybe she'd even get away with it.

"Er... what're you doing?" Ron asked finally.

"Sitting."

"Well, yeah, but why _here_?"

"You said it yourself, didn't you? Why would I want to be stuck at the Slytherin table?"

" _Sure_ , but--"

Ron was interrupted by the arrival of two of his older brothers, who nudged apart the two first year boys whose names Delphi didn't know and seated themselves right across from her. "What d'you want?" demanded Ron, and the twins gave him the exact same dismissive look.

"There's some interesting rule-breaking going on here," said Fred.

"And we figured we'd like to be involved," added George.

"So," Fred began, giving Delphi a rather sly smile, "what's your plan here?"

A bit of Delphi's bravado flagged. She hadn't expected this kind of interruption. She'd have a hard time whispering _anything_ to Harry and Ron with Ron's brothers watching, let alone all the other attention she bound to attract now that she'd garnered theirs.

"To sit with my friends?"

"An interesting new tactic!" said George.

"Most of us," said Fred, "just make friends with who we sit with, not the other way around."

"Yeah, well," Delphi said rather irritably, "you try making friends at the Slytherin table."

"Oh, no, we wouldn't want to do a thing like that," said George.

"It's just that most Slytherins aren't quite as bright as us," said Fred.

"Another good reason not to--" Delphi's sentence broke off abruptly as she realized just why it had been Fred and George Weasley rather than Percy the prefect who had come to confront her: Percy didn't need to, as Professor McGonagall had already been on her way.

"Miss Lestrange!" came the sharp, stern voice of the older woman, and now _everyone_ was looking at Delphi. She felt her cheeks begin to warm. "You are seated with the wrong house."

Much of the Great Hall had gone silent; Delphi was not pulling this off with the subtlety she'd hoped. "Professor, I know I--"

"Come with me," McGonagall said, gesturing impatiently. She cast a rather scathing glance around the room, and most of the students had the decency to stop gawking. Some of the older Gryffindors, though, outright glared. Delphi rose, embarrassed and very annoyed at having missed her chance to share her secret, and she followed McGonagall with her shoulders sagged, expecting to be led unceremoniously toward her fellow Slytherins... but McGonagall instead steered her right out of the Hall.

At first, Delphi took this as a sign for relief. Maybe they were going to have a private meeting somewhere; maybe she'd even get the chance to try to convince McGonagall to let her sit with the Gryffindors after all. But as the other woman turned them in the direction of the dungeons, Delphi realized that she had a far worse fate in store.

By the time McGonagall knocked on the door to Snape's office, Delphi was an anxious wreck. She had only been brave enough to risk sitting with Harry and Ron because her Head of House hadn't been there to see it; now she was going to face his wrath anyway. Merlin, she'd been a fool.

Delphi did her best to steel herself before the door opened. If she didn't already have her backbone set before Snape affixed those horrible, judging eyes upon her, she would no doubt turn into a stammering mess.

When the door did swing open, Snape's immediate look of annoyance faded into one surprise at the sight of McGonagall--and then one of even deeper annoyance as he realized Delphi was there, too.

"What has she done this time?"

McGonagall raised a thin, black brow. Snape stared at her for a moment, then opened the door wider and gestured for the women to come inside. Delphi followed McGonagall in, and when the woman motioned for her to take a seat in front of Snape's desk, she begrudgingly did as she was told.

Rather than join her, though, both professors lingered for a few moments near the doorway, speaking in hushed tones. Delphi wished she could hear distinguish their words. She didn't think she could be in _too_ much trouble just for this, but perhaps this was a bigger mistake than she'd thought.

Finally, McGonagall muttered something to Snape in a rather biting tone, and then she marched out of the room. Delphi's heart sank as Snape stalked toward her alone.

"Tell me, Miss Lestrange, what exactly is it that you think the Sorting Hat does?"

Oh, this was _not_ going to go well. "It sorts us?"

"And do you suppose that after a thousand years of employment here at the school, it could be considered something of an expert at this task?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then why has Professor McGonagall just told me that she caught you sitting with her students instead of your own house?"

Delphi couldn't bring herself to match those unnervingly black eyes. "Because I wanted to talk to my friends while I ate breakfast, sir."

"And you're incapable of making friends within your own house?"

"Not incapable, no."

He sneered. "Unwilling, then? Professor McGonagall seems to be under the impression that no one would do what you've just done without good reason. She has tasked me with ferreting out whether or not that reason could be _bullying_. So tell me, Lestrange, are you being _bullied_?"

"No, sir."

"Then why have you decided that you know better than a millennium-old magical object whose sole purpose is to assign you to a house?"

Would meek and apologetic get her off the hook here? When it came to Snape, she rather thought not.

All or nothing, then. "Because my friends are in Gryffindor, sir, and I don't take orders from a hat."

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Many students, Miss Lestrange, have friends and family in other houses. They do not find it necessary to violate the rules. And even if you _are_ Harry Potter's friend, I guarantee that the rules do still apply to you. If you are not being bullied, then the problem is entirely your own. You are fully capable of doing as everyone else in this school has managed and either finding someone within your own house to befriend or else simply eating alone. Any friends you have in other houses can be seen during your break periods. You are not so special that you may defy our school rules. Do not ever let me see you sit with the Gryffindors again."

Delphi sat silently for a moment. Then-- "Or what, professor? What happens if I don't obey?"

He stared at her so darkly that his judgment suddenly verged on outright hate. It was not a good feeling; she wondered how Harry could   
stand it. "Rule-breaking will be met with detention, Miss Lestrange. Repeated and egregious disobedience will earn you a suspension from the school. And failing that, disciplinary action will eventually escalate to the point of your expulsion. Harry Potter, I assure you, is not worth such a sacrifice. Do I make myself understood?"

Delphi _definitely_ understood. It's just that this was a stupid rule, and the more fervently Snape professed the consequences of breaking it, the more Delphi wanted to tell him to shove it up his ass. "Yes, sir," she said instead.

"Then get out of my office, and do your damnedest not to find yourself here again."

* * *

Delphi left the dungeons in a bit of a haze. She didn't know what to do from here. Obviously, it would be incredibly stupid to try to call Snape's bluff; she had no doubt whatsoever that he wasn't bluffing at all. He would absolutely try to see her expelled if she didn't do as he told her; he wasn't the type of suffer any insubordination at all, that much was clear. Still, if there was one thing that frustrated Delphi, it was a rule without reason. She hated to be limited, and this limitation was particularly nonsensical. Why the hell _couldn't_ she sit with her friends? What logic was there in segregating children's meals? Why must she be miserable within the confines of the rules, when _changing_ such rules would grant her immediate happiness with no negative consequences at all?

As it was Saturday, Delphi had nowhere particular to be. And she was still rather embarrassed by what had happened in the Great Hall. She could still feel the cloying shame of having everyone stare at her like that, of being called out in front of at least half the school. Even Dumbledore had been watching her, no doubt wondering what in the world she had been thinking to be such a fool. And McGonagall's guess had been _bullying_ , of all things! McGonagall apparently thought her too weak to stand up to the other Slytherins, as if Delphi was the type to _run_ from her tormentors rather than fight. Delphi didn't know what to do with that information, but having gained it definitely didn't do much for her self-esteem.

She didn't see Harry, Ron, or Hermione for the rest of the day. Delphi merely wandered the school, just as she had the prior evening. She didn't go again to the forbidden corridor--she wasn't quite _that_ foolish--but her mind did hark back to what Quirrell had told her.

_While you're here, you should make Hogwarts your home... I daresay that even the headmaster has yet to discover some of the secrets tucked away within these halls..._

Well, it wasn't as if she had anything better to do.

* * *

Hogwarts was a mess of empty classrooms and corridors. It was as if the castle had been built to host a much more populous student body, but Delphi had been reading quite a bit of the school's history lately, and as far as she knew, Hogwarts attendance had not significantly fallen since the start of the institution. Perhaps the dimensions of the school, then, had been aspirational. Perhaps Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw had hoped that someday Britain might boast enough young magical people to fill their castle properly. If so, that dream had not been fulfilled within the thousand years since, and it was less likely now than ever, as witches and wizards were growing fewer with every passing generation. And the Dark Lord's so-recent reign of terror, of course, had done nothing to bolster the numbers.

So, as Delphi walked the halls of the school, she began to feel a bit more confident in her solitude. She so rarely crossed anyone's path as she explored the corridors, and even when she did, no one paid her any mind. It seemed that the students mostly liked to congregate in the places they were expected--the common rooms, the Great Hall, the courtyard outside. Every now and then, she would come across a classroom clandestinely occupied by a handful of other kids, but for the most part, she saw no one and nothing as she peeked into the various rooms. Even Mrs. Norris seemed to have better things to do today than catch Delphi in the act of exploration.

Delphi looked in doorway after doorway, seeing nothing of particular interest in any of the classrooms... until finally, something shiny in one of the rooms caught her eye as she peeked in, and she stopped dead in her tracks. It was a mirror, a tall and imposing thing in a completely unlit room. She could barely see it in the darkness; if not for the torch burning in the sconce behind her back, Delphi would never have noticed it at all. It was propped against the wall, facing the doorway, and it looked as if it had been very hastily stowed away there and then forgotten. But no... as Delphi crept into the room, lighting the tip of her wand with a quick _lumos_ , she realized that wasn't quite right. There was something very off about the mirror's placement; it looked so hasty and thoughtless and yet so deliberate all at the same time, and Delphi couldn't shake the feeling that this mirror had been placed here very much with the intention of masquerading as something innocuous. This, of course, meant that she _had_ to go take a look.

Delphi marched up to the glass, examining its every inch. It was magnificent, exactly the kind of mirror that belonged in a castle like this, and its reflective surface, contained within an ornate golden frame, stretched nearly as high as the ceiling. Way up at the top, there was an inscription: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ They were nonsense words--certainly not any language that Delphi recognized--but her mind stuck on the word _erised_. What did it mean, and why did it capture her attention so? Puzzled, she looked finally at her reflection.

Delphi gasped, whirled around in panicked surprise, and then returned her eyes to the mirror.

There was no one else in the room with her, that much was certain, but her reflection in the _erised_ mirror said otherwise.

As the mirror told it, Delphi stood not alone in the room, but with two people at her side.

To her left stood Harry Potter, looking exactly as he did in reality, and his false reflection waved.

To her right... Delphi swallowed nervously as her eyes roved over the unmistakable visage of Draco Malfoy.

_What the bleeding hell is this?_

Delphi looked once again up at the inscription etched in this looking glass of lies. _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ Surely it must mean something. She stared at the words, thinking very hard.

 _Desire arts urhe tyo ebu urfac tyo no ishow?_ No, of course not.

 _Ishow no tyo urfac ebu tyo urhe arts desire?_ Wait--

_Ishownotyourfacebutyourheartsdesire._

_I show not your face but your heart's desire._

Eyes wide, Delphi looked back down at her reflection.

There was no denying it; she'd puzzled out the anagram. It was a simple one, at that; the sentence was merely reversed, with the breaks between words positioned incorrectly. But the contents of the anagram were the important part. _I show not your face but your heart's desire._

Delphi looked again at the two boys standing on either side of her. Each was smiling at her as innocently sweet as any friend might smile at another. Barely aware of what she was doing, Delphi reached up, and her fingertips touched the glass.

It _was_ what she wanted, wasn't it? Above all else, what she wanted was to not keep her newfound friendship with Harry Potter, but to have kept her lifelong relationship with Draco. Her heart's desire was as simple as wanting to have her former best friend get along with her newest.

Before she realized what was happening, a sob bubbled up inside her. Delphi choked it back, ripping her hand away from the mirror's surface. Yes, it was what she wanted, but somehow... somehow showing it to her like this felt _cruel_. She couldn't truly have it, she knew that now; it was a realization that she'd come to very harshly over the past few weeks, and it was one that she didn't like having questioned by a tempting bit of glass.

Delphi stepped back, blinking tears out of her eyes. She wasn't going to be upset about this. She had already given the end of her friendship with Draco all the tears it rightly deserved; it wouldn't steal another from her eyes.

Delphi fled the room almost as quickly as she had run from that damned dog.

* * *

For hours that night, Delphi lay awake in bed. Exploring the school had not at all worked out the way she'd imagined. She'd discovered secrets, yes, and each of them felt as staggering as the other, but neither was something she felt better for having learned. The cerberus was a dangerous threat, and the heart's desire mirror was a cruel and taunting thing. She didn't know the purpose of either, and she doubted that she ever would. Still... at least her discoveries did prove that Hogwarts had promise. If she kept delving into the depths of it, then perhaps she would learn something that she'd actually be advantaged to know.

As it was, she felt oddly lesser for what she had learned. The damn dog had haunted her dreams the night before, and she didn't expect tonight to be any different. But she also didn't think she had much chance of falling asleep, not with the nagging knowledge in the back of her mind that the thing her heart wanted most was something she could never have. She wanted Harry Potter's friendship, and she wanted her cousin's--her _family's_ \--love. She couldn't have both, so she must choose either, and as she lay in bed dwelling on her dilemma, both choices somehow felt very wrong.

But she'd done all this thinking already, and she'd chosen Harry Potter. She had no interest in changing her mind.

Delphi would make absolutely sure that choosing Harry Potter would be worth her while.

* * *

On Sunday morning, Delphi walked into the Great Hall for breakfast with her head held high. She checked to make sure that Professor Snape was seated at the staff table, marched very deliberately along the stretch of Gryffindor seats, and held the gaze of those hateful black eyes as she took her place at Harry Potter's side.


	8. Confirmation Bias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We are always paid for our suspicion by finding what we suspect." -Henry David Thoreau

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don't have a copy of _Philospher's Stone_ ; all I've got is _Sorcerer's_. So when I got to the "Potter for President" bit, I just about cringed right out of my body, because like, _wow_ , Scholastic, that's the stupidest "Let's make this more American!" bit in the whole book... only to find out, while trying to find the original Bloomsbury version of the line, that _that is the UK version of the line_. wut.
> 
> Also! This chapter contains language (including certain phrases, sentences, and lines of dialogue) lifted or adapted from several chapters of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ (mostly chapters nine, ten, and eleven). (Quite a bit more of such language than usual, unfortunately, but hopefully the next chapter will make up for that!)

_Delphi got away with it._ She couldn't believe it. It didn't make the slightest bit of sense, but it was the truth: Snape watched her sit down at the Gryffindor table in direct defiance of his orders, and _he did nothing_. So unexpected was this response that Delphi could only come up with ridiculous explanations, her favorite of which was that he'd gone partially blind at some point last night and was now mistaking her for another student. She had expected him to swoop down upon her in a swell of rage and wrath as soon as she'd taken her seat, and yet... nothing.

"I didn't think you'd be back," said Ron. "Not after whatever McGonagall said to you. I mean, you disappeared afterward."

"What _did_ she say?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Delphi answered, and disbelief registered on both their faces. " _She_ didn't say anything. She took me to Snape instead."

Ron let out a low whistle. "He must've been _furious_."

"Oh, he was." Delphi frowned at the memory; lucky though she was right now, Snape's wrath was still a frightening thing. "Told me not to try this again. Unfortunately, I'm not a very good listener."

"Well, you're certainly a conversation-starter," said Ron. "Everyone's staring at us."

It was true. Delphi had been trying desperately to ignore it, but that didn't change the fact that most of the Gryffindors—and many of the other students, too—were at least glancing in their direction. She wasn't surprised, not after the way she'd been called out for trying this yesterday. Fred Weasley gave her a thumb's up as her gaze passed over him, and George at his side gave her a wink. Not too far from where they were sitting, Percy Weasley was halfway out of his chair, but he lingered uncertainly. Perhaps he was having the same internal argument that she was: if neither Snape nor McGonagall nor any other authority figures were doing anything, then perhaps nothing was meant to be done?

"Sorry. I'm sure they'll get used to me soon enough."

Ron laughed. "Oh, this is brilliant. You're really planning to, what, jump ship on Slytherin? Going for honorary Gryffindor status?"

 _Merlin forbid._ "I'm not planning anything. I'm just sitting with my friends." Delphi glanced toward Hermione, who looked equally as torn as Percy. Delphi could imagine why; Hermione seemed to like rules almost as much as he did, and more to the point, she was no doubt wondering why Delphi hadn't chosen to sit with _her_. Delphi would just have to explain it later; in fact, she might as well invite Hermione to join herself and the boys for the next meal. If Delphi could find common ground with a Muggleborn girl, then surely she could figure out some way to force Harry, Ron, and Hermione to get along.

After a little smile and a wave in Hermione's direction, Delphi turned back to Harry and Ron. With so many of the other students still staring curiously in her direction, she didn't dare mention the cerberus yet; she would have to tell them later. "So, what's new with you two?"

The boys, of course, immediately launched into another far-too-detailed conversation about Quidditch. Bored though she was, Delphi didn't mind it. She'd gotten what she wanted. That had to be enough for now.

* * *

When they met in the library that afternoon, Delphi discovered to her deep disappointment that Hermione was not as easily swayed as she'd hoped.

"I simply don't think it's a good idea!" Hermione protested again.

"You won't even _try_?"

"I don't think there's any point," said Hermione. Frustration had been building quickly in the other girl's voice since the moment Delphi had said the words, "You should sit with us," and now it seemed at the point of bubbling over. "Harry seems nice enough, yes, and I'd be very happy to sit with you, but Ronald Weasley is another thing entirely. He _clearly_ doesn't like me, and I'm not convinced he's particularly nice anyway. Besides, Delphi, it's not... it's not smart. You're going to get in trouble for this—detentions, or even a suspension if you don't follow the rules!"

"You don't know that for sure. Besides, I think it's worth it. I don't mind getting in trouble as long as I get to sit with my friends."

"But you're not."

Delphi paused. "What do you mean?"

"You're not sitting with your friends. You're sitting with _some_ of them. Harry and Ron. Not me. If you really wanted to sit with your friends, you would sit with me sometimes, too. I shouldn't have to spend time with people who don't like me just because that's what _you_ want."

Delphi stared. Was Hermione _jealous_? "Hermione... I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I wouldn't ask you to spend time with anyone who _hated_ you. I just... I was hoping you three could give each other a chance. I'm sure they would like you if they got to know you!"

Hermione's palpable frustration was somehow making her hair look even wilder as her shoulders tensed up beneath the frizz. It felt like the air around them had filled with a static charge that Delphi was desperate to diffuse. Why didn't any of her conversations ever go the way she wanted anymore?

"Well, maybe I wouldn't like them!"

"I just—"

But Hermione was already storming away, and if what she wanted was for Delphi to chase after her, then she was sorely disappointed; Delphi was not yet _quite_ so gone. She wanted very much for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to forge some degree of friendship between themselves, but when it all came down to it, Delphi knew that Hermione's jealousy was justified: if she was forced to choose between being Hermione's friend and being Harry Potter's, there was no question about which friendship she would be willing to lose.

* * *

Halloween at Hogwarts was as magical as Delphi had always imagined. When she woke that morning, it seemed like the entire castle already smelled of delicious, baking pumpkin. As it was Thursday, Delphi had Herbology with the Ravenclaws and then Transfiguration with the Gryffindors in the morning. Since Sunday, things had been a bit tense between Delphi and Hermione, and Hermione did not take the empty seat next to Delphi in Transfiguration for the third day in a row. She hadn't sat next to Delphi during History of Magic, Potions, or Defense against the Dark Arts, either, and Delphi was beginning to worry that their friendship might really be over just as quickly as it had begun. And even though she remained convinced that choosing Harry over Hermione had been the right call to make, she still didn't really believe that she should've had to make it in the first place. She _knew_ they could get along if only they'd all agree to try.

After Transfiguration was a free period, but Delphi couldn't meet up with Hermione in the library, as she'd been doing with far more awkwardness since the weekend. The first year Gryffindors had Charms before lunch, and so Delphi sat in the library with _Modern Civil War: The British Wizarding Conflict of 1970 - 1981_ open in her lap. It was perhaps the least fascinating book that Quirrell had given her thus far, if only because Delphi already knew quite a bit of what it had to teach her. But she read it dutifully until it was time for her to head to the Great Hall for lunch. She would sit again with Harry and Ron, and she would keep clinging to her vain hope that Hermione might harness some of that so-called Gryffindor bravery to join her.

But Hermione was not at lunch, nor was she in the library during either of the two free periods afterward, and when she didn't appear for Defense Against the Dark Arts, either, Delphi knew that something was wrong. Hermione was not the type to ever skip a class. Immediately after Defense was the Halloween feast, and so Delphi made her way to the Great Hall with a pit of inexplicable dread in her gut. Something awful must have happened for Hermione to disappear like this, and Delphi could only hope that either Harry or Ron or one of the other Gryffindors might have a clue.

When Delphi entered the Great Hall, she was too preoccupied to truly notice its eerie beauty. Thousands of live bats swooped through the air, and impeccably carved jack-o-lanterns glittered everywhere. The shimmering ghosts dotted the crowd, their silvery forms like macabre, not-exactly-living decorations, and it all came together in a wonderful sight that Delphi would've adored, had she not been so otherwise consumed.

Instead pausing to appreciate the sights and sounds and smells of the fabled Hogwarts Halloween feast, Delphi walked to the same spot at the Gryffindor table where she'd been sitting three times a day for five days now. And still Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Itching with uncertainty, Delphi turned to Harry and Ron. "Where's Hermione?"

A very uncomfortable look passed between them, and Delphi's stomach sank. Things had been fine when she'd left Transfiguration. What could have happened since then?

"Er..." started Ron. "There might've been a, er, misunderstanding."

Even Harry didn't look like he believed this. Delphi raised a very skeptical brow. "What kind of a misunderstanding? Did she say something to you? You didn't say anything _cruel_ , did you?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"You sort of did, Ron," said Harry.

"What did you say to her?"

Ron's pale skin had started coloring with embarrassment. "I didn't mean for her to hear..."

"To hear _what_ exactly?"

"I might've mentioned how she, you know, doesn't really have any friends."

" _I'm_ her friend."

Ron winced. "Yeah, she, er, brought that up. It's just that I might've accidentally implied you weren't _really_ her friend."

" _What?_ "

"I didn't mean it the way it came out!"

"Merlin's bleeding... Do you know where she is, then?"

Harry came to Ron's rescue. "We heard some of the girls talking. Parvati Patil said that Hermione's been crying in the girl's lavatory, and she won't talk to anyone."

 _Has anyone actually tried?_ Delphi wondered. "Which lavatory?"

"I'm not sure," said Harry. "Parvati didn't say."

Delphi stood, and a look of alarm sprang up on Ron's face. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To look for Hermione, obviously. I'm not going to leave her crying alone in the loo somewhere, thinking she hasn't got a friend in the world."

"But you don't even know where she is!"

"I'm completely capable of asking Parvati about it, you know." She glanced up the Gryffindor table. Parvati Patil was a very pretty dark-skinned girl of Indian descent; Delphi remembered her as the girl with the twin in Ravenclaw. Parvati sat not too far away from Harry, Ron, and Delphi; she had, in fact, looked up at the sound of her name on Delphi's lips, and both she and the blonde girl beside her—Lavender Brown—were giving Delphi rather wary, almost suspicious looks. "I'll see you two later. And Ron, the next time you see Hermione, you'd best apologize for what you said."

Ron sulked as Delphi walked away from him and Harry. The apprehension on Parvati and Lavender's faces grew as Delphi approached; the nearer she got, the more of their neighbors went silent and watchful, too.

"Do either of you know where Hermione is?" she asked.

Parvati exchanged a startled glance with Lavender. "I saw her earlier, yes. She was in the girl's bathroom near the Transfiguration classrooms. I don't know if she's still there. She was crying when I saw her, though. I'm not sure she'll want to talk to you."

Delphi nodded tersely. "Thank you," she said, and without pausing for any awkward questions about why exactly she might want to find a weeping Gryffindor, Delphi rushed off.

* * *

Delphi could hear the telltales sounds of muffled sobs as soon as she entered the loo. Hermione was shut up in one of the stalls, sniffling.

"Hermione?" Delphi called. "Are you in here?"

The sniffling stopped very suddenly, and Delphi saw a flash of black out of the corner of her eye. Two robe-clad legs had just disappeared from the visible gap beneath the stall door; Hermione was trying to pretend she wasn't there.

"Hermione, I know you're in here. Parvati told me. And Ron told me _why_."

"So why are you here, then?" Hermione's voice was thick with tears.

"Because I _am_ your friend. Whatever horrible thing he said to you—I got the gist of it, if not the specifics—it isn't true. _I'm your friend._ Ron is just an insensitive prat sometimes."

"And he doesn't like me," came the muffle response. "And _he's_ your friend."

"He is. He's also a _ponce_. Ronald Weasley is a low-class, impolite, and emotionally careless _idiot_."

Hermione's legs reappeared. "Then why do you spend time with him?"

"Mostly because he's Harry's friend. I can't _make_ Harry not be friends with anyone, and I'd be awful to try!" _That's where Draco went wrong, after all._ "But, Hermione... Ron is also funny and rather smart and actually a pretty good friend sometimes. He just doesn't _think_ , and he says things that hurt people's feelings."

"That doesn't sound like a good friend to me."

"I know. I think... I think Ron might just be a bit immature. He'll get better. Probably. I think he just needs to grow up a little. And you know what? If he doesn't get better, I won't be his friend anymore. But, Hermione.... I'm still your friend, and I'm going to be your friend no matter what nonsense comes out of Ron's mouth. He's an arse, and that's got nothing to do with either of us. Please believe me. I'm your friend, so long as you want me to be." She hesitated, still staring at the stall door. " _Do_ you want me to be?"

Delphi heard the rustling of fabric from within the stall, and then the door opened and Hermione peeked out. "That depends. Is _any_ of it true?"

"Any of what?"

"What Ron said. When he said I didn't have any friends, I told him he was wrong. But I don't know if I'm right or if he is, and that..." Hermione's tearful eyes gleamed wetly. "That _hurts_. I was lonely before, no matter how much I didn't want to admit it. I thought... Well, I thought Hogwarts would be _different_. I thought I was finally going someplace where I would fit in. I thought going to school with magical people would be different than going to a school where I was the only person who could do the things that I could do. Hogwarts was supposed to be a place where... where people would _like_ me and appreciate how smart I am."

" _I_ do."

"But you're the only one. Of course I can tell that people don't like me, Delphi. I've been trying to ignore it and pretend that school's the only thing that matters. But it's not. It's lonely, having no friends."

"You have me, Hermione, I promise. And I'm sorry that _I_ hurt your feelings, too. I'm sorry that I pressured you to get to know Ron. I still do think that you'd like Harry a lot, and that maybe even you and Ron could get along someday. But I never meant to make you feel bad. You're not going to lose my friendship just because you aren't friends with them, too. It just means that I have to split my time between you; I can do that if I must, no problem at all."'

Delphi put all her sincerity into the words, even as she wondered how much she meant them. She still didn't think that she'd ever choose Hermione Granger over Harry Potter... but Hermione was the one in tears right now, and Delphi was willing to say whatever it took to make the poor girl happy again.

If Hogwarts had made Draco meaner and more cruel, then perhaps it had also started turning Delphi nice.

Hermione gave Delphi a watery smile. "Thank you, I—" Her voice broke off suddenly, her gaze flickering past Delphi as she nudged the stall door open wider. "Did you hear that?"

Delphi had not heard anything, but now that she had paused to listen, she could no longer miss the smell. A horrible stench had permeated the air, and if anything in that bathroom had caused such an awful odor, then clearly Filch had stopped doing his job _months_ ago. Delphi's face contorted into an expression of pure disgust—and then she too heard what Hermione had. Odd grunting, as if perhaps an animal had sneaked into the corridor beyond, and then heavy, shuffling footfalls that made Delphi's eyes go wide as she looked toward the open door to the loo.

A massive, dark figure stood upon the threshold of the room, and then it shambled inside with all the grace of the living dead, and Delphi felt as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs within the span of a single second.

_There was a troll in the bathroom._

The door slammed shut behind it, and someone turned the lock.

Hermione's scream echoed horribly around the room, porcelain and mirrors and tile all rejecting the sound entirely, amplifying into a mad frenzy of noise. The troll, tall as a mountain and unavoidable as death, flinched in pain and then swung around, confused. Its wooden club slammed into a sink, and the porcelain shattered.

Hermione clutched at Delphi's arm, desperately trying to tug her into the confines of the bathroom stall, but Delphi wouldn't go. She didn't plan to die cowering beside a toilet; if she was going to be smashed to smithereens—and she almost certainly was—then she was at least going to die on the way to the door. She raised her wand—she knew Stunning it wouldn't work—she yelled, " _Stupefy!_ " anyway, and the troll did not fall. No more crippled than if it had been stung by a bee, the troll turned on Delphi and roared, and all she could muster now was a terrified little squeak.

Nothing at all made sense. Not the fact that there was a troll in the girl's bathroom, not the fact that all of her and Hermione's courage and cleverness wasn't a worth a damn in the face of it, and _definitely_ not the fact that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had just come running in to help them.

Harry yelled something utterly unintelligible to Delphi's panicked mind and threw something at the troll. It did even less than Delphi's stunner, but at least it caught the troll's attention. The thing turned, finally shifting those horrible, piggy eyes from Delphi herself, and Delphi's wand went up again. But she didn't know what spell could penetrate the thick hide of the troll. If Stunning it didn't work, what else was there to do? She was sure she couldn't transfigure it, _positive_ that she couldn't slash it or paralyze it or outright kill it. _What the hell was she supposed to do?_

Ron yelled, threw something; the troll turned to him.

"Come on, run, _run!_ " Harry was yelling, and Delphi yanked on Hermione's arm, trying to get her to move, but Hermione was still tugging Delphi backward into the stall, all other logical thought abandoned.

With the troll advancing upon Ron and neither Hermione nor Delphi running toward the exit, Harry turned away from the girls and toward the troll. Then, to Delphi's complete and utter horror, Harry sprinted and _leaped_ toward the beast, his arms tightening around the thing's neck. He wasn't strangling it, not by a long shot; he was clinging on for dear life... and, Delphi realized with a horrible, disbelieving laugh, his wand had gone straight up the monster's nose.

Delphi yanked Hermione to the floor as the troll flailed in shrieking pain, its club crashing into sinks and stalls. There still was not a single spell in Delphi's mind. Ron, though, did not have any such troubles.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

Delphi could hardly believe her eyes. The club in the troll's massive, gnarled hand, suddenly rose up into the air above its head, yanked from its grasping fingers by Ron's unexpected magic. But Ron couldn't—or simply didn't—hold it long; the spell broke, and the club fell, and then the troll too was falling. The bathroom shook when its massive bulk hit the ground.

Everyone who had fallen to the floor—which was now everyone but Ron—stood shakily. Hermione found her first voice. "Is it dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry. "I think it's just been knocked out." Delphi's stomach churned as he pulled his wand from the troll's nose, and the slimy trail of gray snot connecting the tip of the wood to the troll's face nearly made her retch. She had to look away.

The bathroom door had stood open since Harry and Ron had burst in, and now footsteps raced closer in the corridor beyond. Before Delphi could even decide whether or not to start brainstorming some excuse for this—could they even get in trouble? what the hell was going on?—McGonagall blew into the room like a hurricane, all swirling robes and angry panic. Then Snape came to an abrupt halt behind her, those black eyes quickly sizing up every single person in the bathroom, and then Quirrell skidded to a stop behind him.

Quirrell, ever the actor, laid it on thick. He whimpered, pushed past the other professors, and all but collapsed onto a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape approached the troll, while McGonagall fixed all four of the students with a furious glare. "What on earth were you thinking of?" Delphi had only ever heard Lucius so angry with her before—and perhaps not even him. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape glanced up at Harry; Harry looked at the floor. Snape's gaze roved instead to Delphi, who stared back at him, unimpressed. She'd just stared down a mountain troll and turned to jelly, yes, but Snape wasn't going to get the best of her so easily.

Delphi was so caught up in her staring match that she completely forgot McGonagall's question. She had the strangest sensation that Snape's questions were the ones she needed to answer... but he hadn't even asked any, had he? He'd only been staring into her and Harry's eyes.

Hermione's voice startled them all. "Please, Professor McGonagall—they were looking for me."

McGonagall's fury disappeared, replaced instead by shock—and no small degree of skepticism. "Miss Granger!"

"I went looking for the troll because I... I thought I could deal with it on my own. You know, because I've read about them."

Hermione nudged Delphi, whose gaze finally broke from Snape's. Startled, it too Delphi a moment for her mind to catch up. The lie made her bristle with embarrassment—Delphi never would've put it into the world herself—but she didn't think she had any choice but to back her friend. "That's right," she said. "We thought... well, it turns out Stunning them doesn't work."

Delphi glanced toward Quirrell. He was staring at her just as intently as Snape had; Delphi looked away.

"If Harry and Ron hadn't found us, we'd probably be dead now," Hermione went on. "Harry stuck his wand up its nose, and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish us off when they arrived."

Harry, Ron, and Delphi each silently and separately agreed to pretend that Hermione's tale was the truth. Their innocent expressions, of course, had varying degrees of success.

McGonagall seemed to be at a loss. "Well, in that case... Miss Granger, Miss Lestrange, you have both been _unbelievably_ foolish. How could you even think that two first year students could ever take on a mountain troll?" She turned her sharp eyes toward Delphi specifically. "You tried to Stun it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"It is incredibly common knowledge that the hide of a troll cannot be penetrated by a Stunning spell, Miss Lestrange. I will remind you that clearly, you do not know as much as you think."

Delphi hung her head, her cheeks burning. She _had_ known that, but the lie wouldn't work unless she pretended otherwise. She _hated_ her embarrassment; Hermione would owe her for this.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione rushed off as soon as she was dismissed, and Snape straightened up from where he still knelt beside the troll, and he turned his sneer toward Delphi. "I will see to your punishment. Follow me."

He beckoned for her to follow, and after a last look of gratitude in Harry and Ron's direction—she hadn't even gotten to thank them—Delphi rushed after Snape.

They walked in silence, but only until they were out of earshot. Then— "You were lying," he hissed at her, never once breaking stride.

Delphi nearly tripped, she was so startled. "What?"

"You could not have gone searching for the troll. You left the Great Hall before Quirrell reported that it had entered the school."

"Technically, sir, _I_ didn't say I went searching for the troll. Hermione did. I went searching for her."

Snape glanced at her. "I will be taking five points from Slytherin, Miss Lestrange: two points for lying, and three for the abject idiocy of attempting to Stun a troll."

Delphi kept her protests to herself. Hermione, she reminded herself, would _definitely_ owe her now.

* * *

In spite of the excitement surrounding the troll, the October mood was gone by the next morning. Classes continued on as if nothing had even happened, Delphi did not for a second think that anything significant had changed beyond the date on the calendar. She was wrong.

Almost as soon as Delphi settled into her now-usual seat at the Gryffindor table, Hermione appeared at her side. Delphi watched, mouth agape, as the other girl took the empty seat beside her, giving Harry and Ron a shy little smile. Delphi stared between the three of them. "I feel like I missed something."

Hermione shrugged. "I decided you were right after all."

 _Yeah, still feel like I missed something._ Apparently, taking on a troll was a better argument in Ron and Harry's favor than anything that Delphi had actually said. Still, a gift horse's mouth and all that; Delphi knew better than to complain.

* * *

After that, Harry, Ron, and Delphi were no longer a group of three; Hermione had joined them, seemingly permanently, and Delphi was very much pleased. Still, there was something bittersweet to the victory; welcoming Hermione Granger into the group meant that the likelihood of Draco Malfoy ever giving them a chance had just plummeted to even less than zero.

More pressing, however, was the fact that Delphi still hadn't found the opportunity to tell her friends what she'd seen in the forbidden corridor. People still seemed to be keeping an eye on her during meals, as if ever-waiting for her to suddenly attack Harry or something and prove herself a proper Slytherin who they should never have trusted after all. Even in the halls, she occasionally caught people staring at her now; she had very suddenly gone from being completely ignored by all but the first years to being something of a curiosity to the whole school, albeit one far less interesting than the Boy Who Lived. Beyond meals, though, Harry had less free time than ever; he was practicing Quidditch most nights, and when he wasn't at practice, he was either in class, doing homework, or else he was talking almost obsessively with Ron about the upcoming game. Delphi was beginning to quite dislike Quidditch, and it wasn't helped that Hermione seemed to realize that this was the way to the boys' hearts; she had given Harry a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ several days after Halloween, and Harry had carried the book with him everywhere since.

On the morning of the first Gryffindor Quidditch match, though, Delphi found herself a new appreciation for the book.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked oddly furtive when Delphi joined them at the breakfast table that morning. Hermione scooted over to let Delphi take a place between her and Harry, and Delphi looked back and forth ebtween the lot of them before asking nervously, "What?"

Harry leaned over toward her, his voice a low whisper. "You remember how Snape took my book yesterday?" Delphi did; it had made her very nervous indeed about the _extracurricular_ books in her own bag and dormitory. She nodded. "I went to the staff room to try to get it back yesterday evening."

"And did you?"

Harry shook his head minutely. "No. But I saw something. Snape was in there with Filch, and Snape's leg was mangled from the knee down. That's why he's been limping this past week."

"Something must've happened to him on Halloween," Hermione said, "but the question is what. It couldn't have been the troll; there wouldn't have been time for it to attack him and then come attack us right after. He must've run into something else, but I don't have any idea what—"

Delphi took a deep breath, glanced around the table again—there were still a few glances in their direction, but Delphi couldn't put this off any longer—and gestured for Ron to lean in closer, too. "I know what it was," she whispered. "I might've, er, peeked in on that forbidden corridor on the third floor." Hermione looked horrified; Ron, skeptical but impressed. "There's a cereberus in there." At Ron's blank stared, she added, "A three-headed dog tall as the ceiling."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Why would Snape...?" Then his expression cleared. "He let the troll in," Harry breathed. "We saw him, Ron, remember? Before we got down to the bathroom? He was heading for the third floor! He must've been trying to... to what, though?"

Delphi shrugged. "Don't ask me. I can't even figure a good reason for a monster like that to be in a school in the first place. It's _ridiculously_ dangerous. Dumbledore's clearly lost his mind."

"I'm sure he has a good reason!" Hermione protested, scandalized. "Dumbledore's supposed to be a genius. He wouldn't do anything to put his students in danger on purpose."

"But _what_ good reason could there be for—?"

Harry's eyes widened. "I think it's guarding something."

"What?" Ron demanded. He seemed bewildered by all of this. "Why would you think that?"

"Hagrid," answered Harry. "The first day I met him, he told me that Gringotts was the safest place in the world to hide something, except for Hogwarts." There was a strange graveness to Harry as he went on, "And that was the same day that Gringotts was broken into. I think whatever the thief tried to steal, it's here in the school now. And I think Hagrid moved it."

Delphi, Hermione, and Ron exchanged skeptical looks. Harry sounded so convinced... but it did seem like a stretch.

"Well," said Delphi, "it sounds like the dog did its job, at least. If it mauled Snape, I doubt he or anyone else has gotten past it yet. Whatever it's guarding—if anything—I'm sure it's still safe."

"But what could it be?" Harry muttered.

None of them had any answers.

* * *

Harry was quiet for the rest of the morning, and it wasn't long before he had to leave his friends to join the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The match would be starting at eleven o'clock, and Delphi was pleasantly surprised to detect not a single trace of lingering awkwardness between Ron and Hermione as she walked with them down to the pitch.

The stands were very crowded that morning, and very divided, too. The three of them joined a sea of students wearing red-and-gold scarves and holding up similarly Gryffindor-colored flags and banners and whatnot. The Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs weren't showing much of their own colors, though Delphi knew that most of them would be supporting Gryffindor. The Slytherins, though, did not mind that the rest of the school would not be cheering for them. Taking up the stands on the far side from the Gryffindors, they too were a mass of their house colors, green and silver. Delphi felt more than a bit self-conscious helping Ron, Hermione, and the other three Gryffindor boys—Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas—hold up a "Potter for President" banner with a drawing of a lion roaring beneath the words. If Madame Lestrange could see her now, Delphi would more than likely be murdered where she stood.

Delphi, being none too interested in Quidditch, struggled to pay attention even as the game began. She cheered when Harry walked onto the field, looking positively miniscule next to the other players (and especially some of the Slytherins), but as soon as they were up in the air, her interest began to wane. She tried to keep her eye on Harry, hoping that watching her friend play might make the game more personal and interesting, but as the team's Seeker, Harry didn't do much but hang there in the air, high above the rest of the game.

As the minutes ticked past, painfully dull, Hagrid pushed his way through the crowd to take a seat—well, several—at the end of their row. This, of course, meant that Delphi, Ron, and Hermione had to bunch up very close to Neville, Seamus, and Dean, and so _uncomfortable_ joined _boring_ as a descriptor for the experience.

"Been watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck. "But it isn't the same as being in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

 _Tell me about it_ , thought Delphi. As Hagrid and the other first years prattled on about the game, Delphi rather petulantly crossed her arms over her chest and kept her eyes on Harry. Selfish though it was, she couldn't help wishing he hadn't made the team; if only he wasn't playing, then she wouldn't have felt obligated to come to the game.

Then, _finally_ , something happened. Harry and the Slytherin Seeker, Terrence Higgs, both dove, racing after the Snitch. But just as it looked like Harry was about to grab the ball and end Delphi's torment, Marcus Flint nearly knocked Harry very deliberately from his broom.

With the stadium in an uproar, Delphi's heart raced nearly as fast as the Seekers had been flying. She _hated_ sports, she decided; when Quidditch wasn't boring, it was downright dangerous.

After that, Delphi watched Harry with a newfound sense of dread. In her mind's eye, she could picture him falling from his broom; plummeting to the ground; landing in a broken and bloodied heap, his limbs askew and eyes glassy. She shuddered, trying to shake the image and the fear.

But even as she banished her imagination, reality seemed eager to fill in the gap. High up above them, so very far from the ground now, Harry's broom had begun to lurch oddly, like a horse trying to buck a rider from its back. A few seconds later, everyone else seemed to notice it, too. How could they not? Harry's broom had begun to spin in the air, barrel rolling as if completely outside of his control. Delphi couldn't believe that he was actually hanging on; she clapped both hands over her mouth, just on the verge of screaming, and Harry clung to his broom with a single hand.

Somewhere above her head, Hagrid muttered something about Dark magic, and all at once, horrible suspicion slammed in the Delphi's mind. She knew of only one person in the school with connections to Dark magic. _Quirrell. ___

Before she could so much as put the thought into words, though, Hermione was already in action. She seized Hagrid's binoculars, commandeering them as if taking the helm of a warship, and Delphi felt a flood of relief as she watched Hermione point her gaze directly toward the teachers' section of the stands.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked. He looked almost as bad as Delphi felt.

"I knew it!" Hermione gasped. "Snape—look!" Delphi gasped. _Snape_? Not Quirrell? A part of her was terribly relieved—but only the part that wasn't desperately confused. As Ron grabbed the binoculars from Hermione, the latter went on, "He's doing something, jinxing the broom!"

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

_Thank Merlin for Hermione Granger._

Delphi could barely take her eyes off Harry as Hermione rushed off through the crowd. Both girls had their wands out, but while Hermione had turned hers toward Snape, Delphi's was quivering in her hand as she wracked her mind for a spell strong enough to help Harry. And why, her panicked thoughts demanded, weren't the teachers doing more to help? The Weasley twins, bless them, were at least getting ready to catch Harry if he fell, but everyone else seemed as frozen as Delphi, just watching in transfixed horror as Harry fought against Snape's jinx.

It happened very quickly after that. Just as suddenly as the trouble had started, Harry regained control of his broom. He swung himself back onto it, and then he was diving headfirst toward the ground. He held one hand over his mouth—Delphi couldn't blame him for feeling queasy, after what he'd just been through—and then, to the utter disbelief of everyone, he barely hit the ground before he was coughing up a little golden ball on to the field.

"Did he fucking swallow it?" Delphi heard herself ask, her voice strangely high, utterly hysterical, and distressingly disassociated from the rest of her consciousness.

Still sitting beside her, somewhat more comfortably now that Hermione was gone, Ron cast an incredulous glance at Delphi.

"I hate Quidditch," she told him, and he was so pale and horrified that she would've bet a little part of him actually agreed.

* * *

After the match, Hagrid ushered the four of them down to his hut. All of them were still on edge in the aftermath of what had happened, but Ron's nerves in particular seemed to have manifested in a kind of self-righteous rage.

"It was Snape!" Ron insisted almost as soon as they had taken their seats. Hagrid shoved a cup of tea into Harry's hands. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broom, muttering; he wouldn't take his eyes off you!"

Harry's expression darkened; he clearly believed it. Hagrid, however, was the picture of skepticism as he handed out the rest of the tea cups. Somehow, he must have missed Hermione's discovery in the stands. "Rubbish!" he protested. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

The children exchanged a look. Delphi shook her head minutely; she didn't mind _them_ knowing that she'd directly defied Dumbledore's warning, but she certainly didn't want any of the staff to know.

Harry, however, seemed to have other ideas. "It probably has something to do with why he tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. I think he's trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

The sound of Hagrid's teapot clattering against the wooden floor of his hut matched the note of panic in Delphi's heart perfectly.

"How do you know about Fluffy?"

Delphi, who had just taken a sip of tea to calm her nerves, nearly choked. " _Fluffy_?" she repeated between coughs. "Someone named a cerberus _Fluffy_?"

"Yeah," said Hagrid, giving Delphi a sidelong glance, "I did. He's mine. Bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub last year; gave him to Dumbledore to guard the—"

Delphi couldn't believe her ears. Hagrid had just _explicitly confirmed_ Harry's wild suspicions. And yet... he had broken off at the exact right word, hadn't he? He'd confirmed the information they had without accidentally giving them anything more to go on.

"Yes?" Harry asked eagerly, but Delphi spoke right over him.

"Why hide something in a school?" she demanded. "And if it's the thing that was almost stolen from Gringotts, doesn't that make the school a target? Doesn't that make _the students_ a target? Whether Snape is trying to steal it or not, if it's that thing from Gringotts—Harry thinks it is—then _someone_ is going to try to steal it sooner or later! And what happens to us if we get in the way? A cerberus isn't going to do us much good if we stumble across some unhinged Dark wizard roaming the halls, searching for it! What does Dumbledore think he's playing at?"

Hagrid looked positively floored by this outburst—not to mention a little uncomfortable. "Now, calm down there! You can trust Dumbledore, I'm tellin' yeh. He'd never do a thing to get a student hurt. Listen to me, all four of yeh—yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin'. That's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel—"

"Aha!" Harry exclaimed, thoroughly muffling Delphi's latest gasp. "So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid glared, though his ire seemed directed more toward himself than Harry. But Delphi was no longer paying any attention to Hagrid; her mind was racing, trying to come to terms with the new piece of information that Hagrid had just accidentally added to the little jigsaw puzzling she was building in her mind.

She knew the name Nicolas Flamel. How could she not? She could still remember the day she'd spent last spring in the Malfoy family library, coming through various books for potential names for little baby Boros. It had been in _An Encyclopedia of Alchemy_ where she had found the name Ouroboros, but that had been far from the only name she'd glimpsed within the tome. There had been, in fact, an entire section devoted to one Nicolas Flamel, and a single glimpse at the man's unbelievable birth date had inspired Delphi to read it all.

Nicolas Flamel was an alchemist, the most famous alchemist in all of Europe. And though he had been born in the fourteenth century, he still lived in France even now, thanks to the magical properties of his most celebrated discovery.

Nicolas Flamel was the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone and the Elixir of Life.

"You alrigh' there, Delphi?" Hagrid's voice interrupted Delphi's racing thoughts.

Delphi swallowed the lump in her throat. "Yeah. I'm... Yeah." She glanced at her friends. She would have to tell them what she'd discovered later.

Hagrid didn't need to know any more about what she'd discovered than he already did.

* * *

It was only once they were headed back to the castle that Delphi finally broke her silence. Hagrid hadn't offered them a single other word about either Fluffy, Nicolas Flamel, or even their suspicions about Snape, and so of course the first words out of Harry's mouth were, "We've got to figure out who Nicolas Flamel is."

"We don't have to," said Delphi. "I can tell you right now: Nicolas Flamel is an incredibly famous alchemist."

"What's he famous for?" asked Harry.

"His name sounds very familiar," Hermione mused. "I'm sure I've read about him before."

"I'd be surprised if you hadn't," said Delphi. "He's almost as legendary as Merlin or the founders. He invented the Philosopher's Stone."

Hermione gasped appropriately, but Harry and Ron remained utterly blank. "What's a philosophy stone do?" Ron asked. "Doesn't really sound worth hiding."

"The Philosopher's Stone is the pinnacle of alchemy, the ultimate goal of that entire branch of magic! It can transform any metal into solid gold, and more importantly, it can create the Elixir of Life."

"What's the Elixir of Life?" asked Ron.

Delphi shook her head disbelievingly. "It's the closest thing to immortality that wizards have ever discovered. Nicolas Flamel has been using it to extend his life for over half a millennium now."

"No wonder someone wants to steal it, then," said Ron.

"And it must be someone really powerful," said Hermione. "I've read about Gringotts. Only a serious Dark wizard could've broken into one of their vaults without getting caught."

"You-Know-Who serious," Ron added pointedly, looking at Delphi. Clearly, he remembered their conversation on the train... and Delphi had to admit that she wasn't quite so skeptical as before.

 _Still..._ "We don't know for sure that's what the cerberus is guarding," she reminded them. "We don't even know for sure that it's guarding anything. Besides, if _you_ were nearly seven hundred years old, would you be willing to part with the thing that has allowed you to live so long?"

"That's a good point," said Hermione, and her shoulders sagged slightly.

"Maybe it's not meant to be hidden forever," suggested Harry. "Maybe it's only going to be kept at the school for a little while before Flamel can take it back."

"But why now?" asked Delphi. "Why does it need to be hidden _now_? It's existed for hundreds of years; why is someone after it all of a sudden?"

"Maybe someone's gotten desperate," said Ron darkly. "Like they're going to die if they don't get it."

A foreboding shadow was building in the back of Delphi's consciousness. Some dangerous knowledge threatened to slip from the murky recesses of her mind into the forefront of her thoughts, and from the look on Harry's face, she wasn't the only one who could feel it.

"Voldemort," he said quietly. Ron flinched. So did Delphi.

"That's impossible, Harry," she said sharply. "He's gone. He's been gone for a decade. Because of you!"

"But gone doesn't always mean dead," said Harry. "Hagrid never thought Voldemort was gone—" ("Please stop saying that name!" moaned Ron.) "—and I'm starting to agree with him. No one really knows why he disappeared after killing my parents. If he isn't dead, and if he's just been weakened all this time... maybe he's finally strong enough to go after the Philosopher's Stone."

Delphi shook her head. "Harry, that's... There's no reason to think that."

"Who else would've been powerful enough to break into Gringotts? If anyone could do it without getting caught, it would have to be him."

Hermione gasped. "Snape!" she exclaimed. Delphi gaped at her.

"What about him?" demanded Ron. "You don't think he's You-Know-Who in disguise or something, do you?"

"Of course not! But he tried to kill Harry today. If You-Know-Who is after that Stone, then I would bet anything that Snape's the one who's helping him."

Delphi had nothing to say to this. She wanted to disbelieve it, but... could she? She didn't know if Snape had ever been a Death Eater, or even if he supported the Dark Lord. But he was Lucius's old school friend, apparently, and the Malfoys had always been on the Dark Lord's side. The thought that Professor Snape might be sympathetic to the Dark Lord was perhaps the least far-fetched thing she'd heard all day.

If nothing else, potions lessons would certainly be very interesting from now on.

* * *

Delphi worked hard to keep as far away from Snape as she could after that. She kept seeing Quirrell, though, and he kept giving her books. As November began to wane, she made it through four more in her free time: _Modern Civil War: The British Wizarding Conflict of 1970 - 1981_ , of course, and then a very battered old copy of _The Sacred Twenty-Eight_ , followed by _The Uncertainty of the Prophetic Arts_ , and finally, a sinister-looking tome titled _Magick Moste Evile_ that let out awful (and very conspicuous) ghostly wails if jostled too hard.

It was this last book, of course, that Delphi was most nervous about. _Magick Moste Evile_ , Quirrell assured her, was not against any school rules; there was even a copy kept in the Restricted Section of the library. It was, however, a very dark book of powerful magic and exactly the kind of thing that Delphi knew better than to let herself get caught reading.

And so _of course_ it was this book that got her caught.

Everything had been going so well. She hadn't gotten into any trouble since the troll; November had nearly passed without a single detention, loss of points, or disciplinary meeting with Snape. She hadn't stopped breaking rules, of course, not by a long shot; even Hermione was getting in on the act nowadays, albeit to a far lesser extent than her three friends. But Delphi had managed to avoid being caught—or, in the still-inexplicable case of her insistent seating arrangements, being _reprimanded_ —and so she was quite confident that things were looking up. She spent her time in the Great Hall or outside on the school grounds with Harry, Ron, and Hermione; in the library with Hermione and occasionally the boys; even out on the Quidditch pitch every once in a while to watch Harry's Quidditch practice (though "watch" was a bit of a stretch, if she was being perfectly honest). She still couldn't hang out with them in the Gryffindor common room, unfortunately, and her own common room offered her nothing of interest, but all in all, Delphi was very pleased with the way Hogwarts was going for her.

Then came the library.

Even afterward, Delphi had no idea what Snape had been doing there. One minute, Delphi was entirely in her own universe, silently reading in the little corner of the room that she and Hermione had claimed for themselves. The next, a shadow had loomed over her from behind, and Delphi scrambled to hide the fact that she was not, in fact, reading the oversized copy of _The Giant Book of Giants_ and was instead merely using it to hide the cover of _Magick Moste Evile_ from prying eyes.

Snape's eyes, it turned out. And those pitch-black nightmares were not amused.

"Is that how you normally treat library books, Miss Lestrange?" His voice, as always, was a soft, dangerous hiss that reminded her of some queer combination of Parseltongue and the sound of an angry cat.

Delphi sat frozen, no idea whatsoever how to get out of this one. In the seat beside her, Hermione's eyes were wide as moons.

"This one actually isn't a library book?" she tried hopelessly before adding, "Sir?"

Snape held his hand out expectantly, and Delphi quickly extracted _Magick Moste Evile_ from _The Giant Book of Giants_ and shoved it face-down onto the desk in front of her. She handed _The Giant Book of Giants_ to Snape.

He took it—didn't even glance at the cover—and pointed silently at the second book.

Delphi could feel herself start sweating as she picked it up and placed it in his hand.

Snape took one look at _Magick Moste Evile_ , and if he'd looked suspicious of her before, it was nothing compared to the expression on his face now. "Where did you get this, Miss Lestrange?" he all but whispered. Something about the softness of his voice made the threat of his wrath seem even more deadly serious.

Should she lie? Tell the truth? If she gave up a name, either Quirrell's or someone else's, she'd be getting them into trouble. Snape was not going to let something like _Magick Moste Evile_ go. Even if she pretended that she'd gotten it from Lucius, there was a good chance that would only result in her uncle receiving a very unexpected and _extremely_ unwelcome letter from Dumbledore.

"Professor Quirrell, sir," she said finally.

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Hogwarts keeps its only copy of this book in the restricted section of the library," he said. "Students are not permitted to read this book without approval, and first year students are not permitted to read it at all. You should not have been given it. I will be taking it, and I will be speaking to Professor Quirrell about what is and is not appropriate reading material for eleven-year-old girls."

Delphi didn't bother to point out that she was actually twelve; somehow, she doubted Snape would care. Besides, Snape had just dropped a bombshell on her; not only was he taking Quirrell's book away (and she very much doubted she would ever get it back), but he would also be confronting Quirrell about it. Even more than she was furious that she wouldn't get to finish the book, Delphi now dreaded the thought that Quirrell might not lend her any more after this.

"Sir, I just—"

"Ten points from Slytherin, Miss Lestrange. I suggest you exercise better judgment in the future; I do not appreciate taking so many points away from my own House."

He swished away, robes billowing, and Delphi sagged dejectedly in her chair.

"He's probably right," Hermione offered unhelpfully. "If it's from the restricted section, you probably shouldn't have been reading it."

Clearly, Hermione still needed a few lessons on properly breaking the rules.

* * *

Hours later, Delphi found herself standing awkwardly in the corridor beyond Quirrell's office door. Staring at the wood in front of her, she gathered her nerves. She was sure that Snape had already confronted Quirrell by now, and she dreaded the thought of what that might mean for their odd little mentorship.

Delphi knocked.

The door opened after only a moment, and Quirrell ushered her inside without comment. He was clearly not surprised to see her there. 

"I was wondering when you would show up," he said after he had shut the door. No stuttering at all this time, she noted; straight to the point.

"I'm so sorry, professor," said Delphi. "I'd thought I was being careful, but he snuck up on me." 

"Yes," said Quirrell rather darkly. "Severus does that sometimes. What did he say to you when he realized what you had?" 

"Just that I wasn't supposed to have that book, and that he'd be talking to you about it. I'm _really_ sorry. I shouldn't have told him the truth when he asked who gave it to me." 

"Better that than get yourself expelled," said Quirrell. "Snape is suspicious to a fault. He told me that he caught you in the library; I don't suppose I need to point out that he has no reasons to go there before nightly patrols." Surely Quirrell wasn't saying what Delphi thought he was? "He is watching the both of us fairly closely, I think. I have noticed him following me a time or two already; I would not be surprised if he noticed our meetings and decided to investigate further. Though what he expects to catch either of us doing, I couldn't guess..."

Delphi highly doubted that. If the cerberus on the third floor was indeed guarding the Philosopher's Stone, then Delphi could only imagine that the teachers all knew. And if Harry's little theory about Professor Snape was right, then perhaps Snape expected that by watching Quirrel, he could discover the key to stealing it.

This thought lingered on the tip of Delphi's tongue. But should she tell Quirrell? Harry had found it acceptable to confide in Hagrid; she wouldn't be out of line to tell someone she trusted, she didn't think. There, though, was the question: did she trust the professor? He had her gratitude, surely, but she didn't quite think he had her trust. She still didn't know his motives, after all; for all he might try to imply that there was nothing here more than academic nurturing, she knew that there had to be more to it than that. He wasn't doing this for Hermione, after all, and surely Hermione was smart enough to warrant extra attention, too. Besides, anyone with an interest in the Dark Arts was inherently suspicious, were they not? The Dark Arts did not lend themselves to upstanding citizens without ulterior motivation.

Delphi decided to keep her secrets. "What now, professor?" she asked instead. A part of her still feared that the answer would be _nothing_ , that Quirrell would not forgive her mistake in letting Snape catch her with the book.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to return the book to you," he said regretfully. "It would not benefit either of us to risk letting you get caught with it again, and I've no doubt that Snape be watching you even more closely than before. This will surely have convinced him that his suspicions are far more warranted than they truly are. However, I'm prepared to offer you something better." He smiled at her. "There is only so much a student can learn from books, Miss Lestrange. I think it's time that your education proceeds to actual lessons."

Delphi's heart skipped a beat. "Lessons, professor? Lessons in _what_ , precisely?"

"Magic, Delphini. The many, varied magical arts. Hogwarts offers its students only select branches of study, and the options for students your age are even more limited than that. Extracurricular studies must always be undertaken by the best of our students, if they are to reach their full potential while still within these walls. I intend to see you fulfill that potential, provided you're willing to accept my help."

"Of course," she said eagerly. Greedily, in fact. She wanted whatever he had to offer her. When it came to magic and to knowledge, she wanted it all.

Quirrell's smile was all too knowing. "Exactly what I hoped to hear. Come back on Friday evening after supper; if anyone asks, I've given you detention. I'm sure Snape won't believe it, but he won't be able to stop you from attending, either." He looked over her appraisingly. "Our first lesson should be Disillusionment, I think. Once you've mastered that, you'll have a much easier time traversing the halls without getting caught. Now, you'd best be off—and don't be surprised if Snape swoops down upon you as soon as you're in the corridor to demand you turn out your pockets. Good day, Miss Lestrange."

"Good day, sir."

* * *

Contrary to Quirrell's warning, Snape did not confront Delphi again that day. At dinner, Delphi gave no sign to Hermione and the others that she'd given any more thought at all to what had happened in the library, though Harry commiserated with her over the loss of her book. He had never gotten back his copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ after Snape had taken it, either, after all.

Delphi was, however, far more excited about the prospect of actual lessons than she was disappointed by the book's confiscation, and so she left dinner with a certain sense of satisfaction. Trailing along behind the bulk of the Slytherin crowd meandering toward their common room in the dungeons, Delphi's mind raced with the possibilities. Quirrell was planning to teach her the Disillusionment Charm first, which was promising; being able to Disillusion herself would be a massive advantage over the rest of the students, and it was not only more advanced magic than anything she'd learn in a regular class this year but also very practical. What else did he have planned for her? She had grand notions of spell invention, of magical theory, of charms and transfigurations and potions far beyond anything else a Hogwarts professor would ever teach. She simply couldn't wait.

Rather in a daze, Delphi slipped into the common room with the tail end of the crowd and headed toward her dormitory. Still preoccupied with her thoughts, she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until she was right at the doorway—and found that she couldn't go any further at all.

The other five first year girls—Pansy, Millicent, Daphne, Tracey, and even Lilly Moon—had come to an abrupt halt just beyond the threshold of their dorm room, as if stunned into silence by something ahead. Delphi stood on tiptoe, trying to get a look, and when that didn't work, she very deliberately cleared her throat.

Four heads turned to give her varying degrees of vicious looks. Only Lilly Moon, still staring at whatever lay ahead, did not affix her with a glare.

"You certainly pissed someone off, didn't you?" said Pansy Parkinson in an unusually delighted voice, and Delphi felt a thrill of dread as she pushed past the girls to get a proper look at what had stopped them.

It was a horrible sight. Most of the room was untouched, with five of the six beds remaining pleasantly pristine. One bed, though—Delphi's—was another story.

All of Delphi's worldly possessions, save those she had deigned to leave at the manor, were strewn about as carelessly as if a tornado had just blown through. Books, quills, and rolls of parchment were scattered everywhere; the covers and pillows of her bed were askew, as if someone had been searching underneath them; the drawers of her bedside table were turned out, with all their normal miscellany haphazardly tossed onto the tangled bedclothes; her spare robes had been thrown across the mattress, their pockets outturned; and her trunk, which was normally locked tight at the foot of her four-poster, was wide-open and empty, its former contents joining the rest of the mess atop her bed. Everything she owned had been searched, judged, and summarily abandoned wherever the searcher had deigned to let them fall.

The message was clear: _I can look through your things whenever I please, I feel no need to hide it, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me._

Delphi glanced at the other girls. For the briefest of moments, she actually considered that one of them had done this. But no; she knew exactly who it had been. Even if one of these girls were both bright enough to get her trunk open and cruel enough to _want_ to, they weren't the ones who had just today gained a motive for this.

There was only one person in the school who had any reason to search through Delphi's possessions. Only one teacher who clearly believed that she was up to no good.

Trying to ignore the tittering of the other girls, Delphi started the task of cleaning up Snape's mess.


	9. We All Need People to Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Throughout evolution, ostracism was death indeed." -Helen Fisher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a line here adapted from the Disillusionment article at Fandom.com's Harry Potter wiki. As J.K. Rowling has never (to my knowledge) revealed an incantation for the Disillusionment charm, I have chosen one of my own. As usual, some lines, phrasing, etc. below are lifted and/or adapted from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ ; less usually, some lines, phrasing, etc. are borrowed from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_.
> 
> Also, you may have noticed that the projected number of chapters for this story has changed from 17 to 15. Over the course of writing the following chapter, I ended up making some changes to my outline (initially to correct a timeline issue, and then to bulk up an upcoming chapter); as such, chapter nine as it appears here contains most of the scenes that were originally intended to span chapters nine and ten, and the upcoming chapter ten will contain all scenes originally intended for chapters eleven and twelve. (No scenes have been cut, though; the actual projected length of the story isn't changing, just the location of the chapter breaks.)
> 
> This does mean, of course, that we'll be getting to Chamber of Secrets territory sooner than I expected, which I'm very excited about! (And that means I'll soon be working on a much more detailed outline for Prisoner of Azkaban material than the outline I've done for it thus far, and I super can't wait to get into the weeds of properly plotting that one.)
> 
>  ~~Side note: since this chapter turned out to be twice as long as expected and took an extra week to write, it's under-edited. There're probably many more typos than I'd like; I'll be combing through for them asap, but I didn't want to delay publishing any longer. If nothing else, I wanted to be sure that the chapter came out before the end of March.~~ The most glaring errors should be corrected now; there may be a few I missed. There weren't quite as many typos as I'd feared, but my fingers have a bad tendency to skip the occasional word while typing. *sigh*
> 
> Lastly, huge thanks to everyone who has commented thus far; feedback of all flavors is vitally important to the growth of both a writer and their work(s), so if you have something to say, please feel free to say it! Each and every comment is wholeheartedly appreciated. <3

The next morning, Delphi made sure to wake before the other girls in her dorm. She wanted to get out of the Slytherin common room as quickly as possible; it had never felt like a particularly safe and welcoming place to her, but after what had been done to her things, it felt almost like sleeping in enemy territory.

With any luck, Delphi hoped to get to the Great Hall without incident and perhaps even commiserate with her friends about what Snape--and she was still sure it had been Snape--had done.

Delphi's luck was, as ever, utter trash.

"Lestrange!" She had barely made it out of the girls' wing before a voice--male, older, and only vaguely familiar to her--stopped her in her tracks.

Delphi turned, and her heart sank as she recognized who had spoken: the snappish Slytherin prefect who had ushered the first years after the start-of-term feast. He had not said a word to her since; that he was doing so now, and that he had actually addressed her by name, could not possibly be a good sign.

"Can I help you?"

Delphi eyed him very warily. He was not alone. Rather, he sat with a trio of older Slytherin boys--perhaps sixth or seventh years. Delphi recognized one of them as the Slytherin Seeker, Terrence Higgs. Each of them watched her as she stared back at them; none of them seemed particularly pleased.

"Sit down," said the prefect, gesturing toward the open seat between two of the boys.

Delphi took one look at the proffered space and answered, "No."

The prefect's eyebrows lifted. "No?" he repeated. "I suppose I should've expected that. You're a difficult little girl, aren't you?" Delphi matched his expression, though the challenge she offered him was far more cautious than the one he presented her. She still didn't know what he wanted from her, and unlike with Snape or Quirrell, she had no idea what she might risk through defiance. "Like in the Great Hall, for example. You've been sitting with the Gryffindors, haven't you? Considering you were Sorted here, that seems a little suspect, don't you think? But that's not actually my problem; I don't really give a damn where some first year eats her lunch. On the other hand, when I start to hear about how that same first year seems to be getting an awful lot of points taken away from Slytherin... well, then I start to pay a little bit more attention."

The prefect rose from his seat and took a few steps in Delphi's direction; she backed away, tightening her grip on her wand. There was no way she could take a sixth or seventh year in a fight. "And the rumors are interesting, insofar as anything to do with an eleven-year-old girl can be interesting. Apparently, you had something to do with troll on Halloween? I couldn't get much of the story from Snape, I'll admit, but I know you were out after everyone else was safely back in the common room, and I know it cost us points. And from the sounds of it, there's been quite a bit more than that. Detentions, something about a restricted book, an obvious lack of respect for the rules of house separation... You, Lestrange, are clearly a budding problem for us all. So what are you going to do about it?"

Delphi's voice cracked as she answered. "Nothing."

"Nothing," the prefect repeated, and he gave his friends a very performative look of disbelief. "You're not going to do anything to show your fellow Slytherins that you're not the liability we think you are?"

"I haven't done anything wrong," Delphi said, partially to bolster her own nerves. It was true, after all--she'd broken rules, yes, but so had every other student within the castle, up to and including the likes of Hermione Granger and (Delphi was willing to bet) Percy Weasley.

"Since Snape keeps taking points from you, I'd wager that's not true. And considering it's Snape we're talking about here, you're definitely doing something to deserve it; if nothing else, he at least gives his own students proper favor, except when it comes to utter imbeciles... And to you." He smiled viciously. "Now, I hear you're a clever little thing in classes, so I'm going to give you a homework assignment of my own, and we'll see just how clever you really are. Do you want to know what it is?"

"No."

"You, little girl, are going to learn to behave yourself. You're going to prove to me that you actually want to be part of this house; at the very least, you're going to stop costing us the lead in the house cup. And if you can't do that?" The prefect grinned viciously. "Then you're not going to be a Slytherin anymore."

Delphi stared at him; she didn't know what in the world that was supposed to mean, beyond to threaten and to scare her. He couldn't actually have her thrown out of the house; Merlin knew Snape himself probably would've already tried that one if it were actually possible.

"You can't scare me," Delphi said coldly, and Terrence Higgs snickered while his other friends exchanged glances.

"I can," said the prefect. "Now get the hell out of here, and from now on, make sure you're doing your damnedest to belong."

Delphi fled the room like wolves were at her heels. She was starting to wish she'd just been a Gryffindor after all.

* * *

On Friday, Delphi could barely contain herself during supper. She paid little attention to the conversation Harry, Ron, and Hermione were carrying on around her. Had they finally stopped discussing Quidditch, with occasional interjections from Hermione about class and homework? Delphi neither knew nor cared. Her mind was all-consumed by what she would be doing in less than an hour's time, and as soon as the meal was over, Delphi bid her friends a hasty adieu and raced toward Quirrell's empty classroom.

No one, as it turned out, had bothered to ask where she was going or what she would be doing that day after dinner. No one cared; her Gryffindor friends simply assumed that she would be spending yet another lonely evening in her own common room (an assumption that had been growing less and less likely to be accurate of late, as Delphi had begun spending more and more time wandering the school), and, honestly... hardly anyone else truly noticed her. People still stared at her sometimes--as a Slytherin consistently found in a sea of red, that was rather difficult to avoid--but they didn't pay much attention beyond the occasional curious glance. Delphi was trying very hard to be uninteresting and inoffensive, after all; she had not forgotten her conversation with the older Slytherins.

Delphi's knuckles rapped against the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts wing with a confidence that narrowly masked her anxieties. She was trembling beneath her robes, her muscles all tension and excitement and doubt. She still didn't know quite what to expect--still wasn't sure that this was as good an idea as she hoped it was--still didn't care. She certainly wasn't turning back now.

Quirrell opened the door and ushered her inside. "I'm pleased you made it here, Delphini."

This took her aback. "Was there any doubt?"

Quirrell smiled faintly. "Anything could have happened between this meeting and our last. You might've had a change of heart, fueled in no small part by Professor Snape's continued hounding." He looked at her more sharply. "Has he spoken to you again?"

"No, sir." In her mind's eye, Delphi flashed back to the terrible sight of her ransacked room only hours after the potions master had taken her book. Should she tell Quirrell? "But someone went through my things that evening. By the time I got back to the door, someone had torn the place apart. But nothing was missing; whatever they were looking for, they didn't find it."

Quirrell winced. "If Severus had searched your things, I doubted you would have found them in such obvious disarray. If nothing else, he does not lack for subtlety when he finds it necessary."

Delphi considered this, then shook her head. "It felt like it was meant to be a message. Or a threat. Whoever it was, if it wasn't Snape... they wanted me to know they'd done it."

"Then you'll need to be more careful going forward. If it wasn't Snape, then you're also on someone else's bad side. You will want to watch your back, Delphini, even at Hogwarts. I will do what I can for you, of course, but even a teacher can only do so much." He offered her another faint smile. "But that's another good reason for these lessons, I suppose. What I intend to teach you will help you protect yourself in the future, and you've certainly proven that you will need quite a bit of protection. You did, after all, attempt to Stun a mountain troll."

Heat flooded Delphi's face; she suddenly wished the floor might swallow her. "I knew it wouldn't work," she protested weakly, "but I didn't know what else to do."

"And we can work on correcting that in the future," said Quirrell. "Presently, however, my biggest concern is ensuring that you will be able to continue attending these lessons. As I said, I intend you to learn Disillusionment. Are you aware of the charm?"

"I am. It's for camouflage--or invisibility, if done well enough."

"Correct. It is, however, far beyond the abilities expected of a first year. When it comes to you, however, I must admit I expect much more. Though a spell like this will not be easy for you, I've no doubt that you are capable of performing it. Would you like to try?"

She did, desperately. Delphi wanted nothing more in the world than to prove herself. "Yes."

"Very good. Watch me, then. Pay close attention to the wand movement." He lifted his wand arm, and with a sweeping movement, twirled it around his body as if he were wrapping a rope around himself. " _Abscondus!_ "

Quirrell disappeared completely, leaving Delphi the only visible occupant of the room. And she was eager to correct that.

"Again, the incantation is _abscondus_. While casting, it is necessary for the tip of your wand to make at least one full revolution of your body; otherwise, the invisibility may be incomplete. Keeping in mind that I do not expect you to perfectly perform this on your first attempt, you are now welcome to try."

Delphi's hand trembled slightly as she lifted her wand. A fantasy of immediately mastering the spell played out in the back of her mind, distracting her; she struggled to brush it aside and focus. She raised her wand up above her head, angling the tip down at herself, and then swirled her arm, repeating, " _Abscondus!_ "

Delphi gasped as a horrible cold sensation traveled down her body from the very crown of her head. Eagerly, she looked down at herself. But she was not invisible; she was not even imperfectly camouflaged, as she'd hoped she might be. Rather, her body appeared vaguely translucent; she could see her hands unmistakably, but she could also quite clearly see the stone floor directly through them.

"Well done, Miss Lestrange," said Quirrell--too generously, Delphi thought. "An impressive first try for someone your age." He reappeared in front of her, popping back into view with another circular flourish of his wand. "I am going to remove the charm from you, and I would like you to try again. I daresay it won't take you too much practice before you get the hang of it, though I must caution you against practicing it outside this classroom. Once you have mastered it, you may perform it as you wish; until then, you would do best not to get caught half-invisible." He flicked his wand in her direction, and her visage resolidified as a rush of heat flooded up from her heels. "Try again."

Delphi did, though it worked no better than last time.

In the end, it took her two dozen tries before she managed to camouflage herself properly. It still wasn't quite invisibility... but the look of satisfaction on Quirrell's face was more than enough to make up for her any lingering disappointment.

Delphi left the classroom an hour later with Disillusionment and its counter-charm added to her repertoire, and she already couldn't wait for whatever Quirrell might teach her next.

* * *

The beginning of December dragged on. Narcissa's still-unanswered letters were even more frequent now that the Christmas holiday had begun to loom; a quick skim of each new arrival proved that Aunt Cissy was desperate for Delphi to come home to the Manor for Christmas. No doubt she hoped some time away from Hogwarts would provide her an opportunity to get to the bottom of Delphi's new attitude and questionable decisions, and Delphi was not about to allow that to happen. The last thing she wanted right now was to be trapped with her family and isolated for the entire break, because who knew what state of mind she might be in when she finally made it back to Hogwarts after that.

So of course when Professor Snape had demanded the names of any Slytherins intending to stay for the holidays, Delphi had been very nearly first in line to sign up. Draco had glared at her as she had scribbled her name onto the list, but she had ignored him. Few Slytherins were staying, after all, and that meant Delphi would have considerably more peace of mind than normal. Not that he couldn't be insufferable about it in the days leading up to the end of term; nearly every time she saw him, he kept making pointed comments about certain students being "not wanted at home," all while staring quite openly at Harry, Ron, and Delphini. (Hermione, unlike her friends, would be returning to her Muggle parents for the break. A part of Delphi was actually curious--what was a Muggle Christmas like, she wondered?)

But when the holidays finally started, Delphi didn't spare a single further thought to what Hermione and her family might be doing with their time. Hogwarts now was blissful. The corridors were nearly empty, as was the common room. Neither Draco and cronies, Pansy and the other girls, nor the prefect and his entourage were there to glare at her, mark snide remarks, or chase Delphi away from the most comfortable chairs, and there were no lessons to encroach upon her free time--save, of course, for Quirrell's.

Delphi had settled into a pattern with the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. They were meeting every Friday evening now; Delphi would Disillusion herself and sneak to the D.A.D.A. wing of the castle, where Quirrell would be waiting to teach her something new. They had only met a few times since the Disillusionment lesson, but they had been making progress as surely as Delphi had hoped. In their second lesson, Quirrell had brought in a small rat upon which he had bid her practice three rather simple combat spells: _petrificus totalus_ , the full body-bind curse; _locomotor mortis_ , the leg-locker curse; and _silencio_ , the silencing charm. The third lesson had seen Delphi blasting parchment, quills, and even a desk into fine mist and ashes with _reducto_. And the fourth lesson, the last before Christmas, had been devoted to low-level elemental spells like _incendio_ for fire, _aguamenti_ for water, and _glacio_ for ice. Nothing so far had been especially advanced, nor had any of it been outside the realm of the Hogwarts curriculum for older students. Still, Delphi found satisfaction in it; even if these were spells that she could've discovered and taught herself on her own, having a teacher added an level of legitimacy to it. She wasn't just fumbling in the dark here; this was her education, and if the consistent satisfaction with which Quirrell affixed her as she mastered each new spell with increasing swiftness was any indication, she was doing very well indeed.

There was only one thing marring Delphi's holiday, and that was the fact that Harry and Ron were as pleased with the emptiness of their own common room as she was with the near-vacancy of hers. From what she managed to get out of them during meals, they were spending a lot of time hanging around the fireplace, roasting marshmallows and the like while Ron tried to teach Harry wizard chess. And though Delphi did not have any particular interest in joining either of these activities, the fact that the Gryffindor common room was out of bounds to her chafed on her nerves every time she recalled it. But she knew better than to take an unnecessary risks; though the prefect was not currently at the school, she had no doubt that if she stepped foot in Gryffindor tower, everyone would very quickly hear about it. And though she didn't know what the older students intended to do to her if she pushed her luck too far, she was fairly sure that her lessons with Quirrell had not yet progressed to the point at which she would be willing to take on four seventh years.

So, Delphi spent the night of Christmas Eve completely alone in her dormitory, and she awoke on Christmas morning to a completely quiet, gently lit room and a pile of presents at the foot of her bed.

With a sense of deeply uncomfortable guilt settling into her gut, Delphi pushed the covers back from her slender frame and crawled toward the nearest package. She picked it up as delicately as if it were some poisonous snake, and her gut twisted again as she realized it was from the Malfoys. She checked the rest of the boxes; most of it, in fact, was from her aunt and uncle. It was the first Christmas she had spent away from them, and a part of her had truly hoped that they might simply forget about her completely. Staring now at this reminder that she was still very much a part of their lives... she felt terrible about everything, and she had no idea what to do.

For the moment, Delphi chose to ignore the problem. She turned, instead, to a parcel wrapped in thick brown paper, upon which was scrawled _To Delphi, from Hagrid_. She almost couldn't believe her eyes; if the gifts from the Malfoys had been guilt-inducing but truthfully expected, this was as startling as it was unexplainable. Why on earth would Hagrid care so much about her as to give her a gift?

Delphi unwrapped it quickly, and the little wooden flute that fell into her lap only added to the mystery. She had never once expressed any interest in music, let alone said such a thing to the gamekeeper, and yet here it was, a hand-whittled instrument made with care and delivered straight to her for the holiday. She didn't know what to make of it at all, and so she chose to ignore it for now, too. She could thank Hagrid later, she decided, and perhaps get to the bottom of why he'd sent it in the first place.

A brightly-wrapped rectangle bearing Hermione's neat, very practiced handwriting upon the label was next; Delphi tore the paper away to reveal a set of books she didn't recognize. _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ , the first title read; the second was _Through the Looking Glass_. Children's stories, Delphi realized. _Muggle_ children's stories. She thought back to her well-loved childhood copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and smiled faintly. Delphi never would've thought of it herself, but getting a glimpse of the kinds of stories Muggles told their children would be fascinating indeed; she would have to find time to read Hermione's books before the start of term.

Setting the two volumes aside for now, Delphi returned to her presents and hesitantly began unwrapping the Malfoys' gifts. There were thirty-seven of them in all, not considerably more or less than usual... and yet somehow their number made her feel oddly guilt for the first time. She wondered how many presents her friends had gotten; Ron's family was pureblooded but poor, and Harry's was _dead_. Had either boy gotten any gifts at all?

With a dark pit of indescribable emotion in her gut, Delphi gave each of her gifts a cursory once-over. Perfume, books, jewelry--nothing unusual, but all obviously expensive and meant to impress upon her that she was not yet the family outcast that she thought she was. And at the very bottom of it all was a letter. Delphi opened it, read it, and felt her heart sink.

> Dearest Delphini,
> 
> As you have not responded to a single one of my letters since the first, I'm afraid I have no idea if you are even reading them. I will continue to write, of course, my darling, but I do wish you would pay some mind toward what it does to my heart to be on the receiving of such cruel treatment as this. In any case, I am aware that you intend to spend your Christmas at Hogwarts this year, and while I respect your desire to see the castle at its merriest, I must admit that I had been counting upon your presence at the Manor. Your grandmother will be attending Christmas dinner this year, and I had promised her that she would have the opportunity to speak with you.
> 
> By the time this letter arrives, I am sure it will be too late for you to join the other students in returning home via traditional methods. As such, you are more than welcome to spend the majority of your holiday at school. As for Christmas dinner itself, however, I must insist that you still attend.
> 
> Thankfully, your uncle Lucius has connections enough to arrange this for us. On the evening of December 25th, I must ask that you permit Professor Snape to accompany you to Hogsmeade, where he will be Apparating the two of you to the manor and joining us for Christmas. Lest you fear otherwise, I assure you that although first years are rarely permitted to leave school grounds for any but emergency circumstances, the school governors have offered their approval of this plan, and Professor Snape will be happy to assist. As I said, Lucius has very advantageous connections.
> 
> Looking forward to your visit,  
>  Aunt Narcissa

Delphi felt as if someone had just stabbed her right in the chest. For the entire break so far, she had been looking forward to attending the Christmas feast with Harry and Ron. The Great Hall had been beautifully decorated since the first week of December, when Hagrid had lugged in a series of massive evergreens that the other teaches had all helped decorate to utter gorgeousness. There were festoons of mistletoe and holly hanging all about, hundreds of candles burning, and even a fine mist of snowflakes perpetually falling from the ceiling and melting into mist just above the tables. And as pretty as it had been thus far, Delphi knew it would be at its most majestic tonight; the Hogwarts Christmas feast was practically legend.

And now it seemed that Delphi would not get to see it. She stared down at the letter, pulse pounding in her ears as a steady drumbeat of despair. The thought of attending the Manor for the Malfoy family Christmas was an unpleasant last-minute surprise, certainly, but it wasn't even the part that horrified her most. The very idea that she would, in several hours' time, be expected to face down Madame Lestrange's judgment was an unpleasant one to say the least; Delphi would need nerves of steel for such an encounter, and she had far less time than necessary in which to prepare.

That Snape was supposed to deliver her to this terrible trial--and that he would also bear witness to her potential humiliation--was just icing atop some truly vile cake.

Wringing her hands anxiously, Delphi cast a nervous glance at the pile of brand new possessions sitting atop her bed. They would be safe if she left them out, she thought, but even with the dorm room empty besides herself, she no longer truly trusted it. She couldn't help but think that one of these days, she would come back to find everything she owned had been destroyed.

Delphi quashed down her worries, turning her attention instead to the new hurdle at hand. She didn't think that there was any way out of this; if Lucius had truly gotten the permission of the governors to take her home for the evening (and Delphi doubted that Narcissa would lie), then she didn't see that had any choice but to obey. Besides, it sounded as if Snape would be chasing her down at some point in the afternoon, and she doubted very much that "I don't want to" would be an excuse that worked with him.

If nothing else, Delphi supposed, this certainly proved that Lucius and Snape were really friends. She highly doubted Snape would agree to do anything like this otherwise.

* * *

"You're WHAT?" Ron demanded. He was apparently so scandalized by what Delphi had just told him that he found it necessary to yell his disbelief to everyone in the Great Hall.

Delphi cast an anxious glance toward the staff table. Snape was staring at them, and she sank down in her seat, wishing not for the first time that she could disappear. "I'm going home for Christmas dinner," Delphi repeated miserably. "Believe me, I don't want to. But I got a letter from my Aunt Narcissa today, and she made it pretty clear that I haven't got a choice."

"And you're going with _Snape_?" Harry said. He looked horrified at the prospect.

"Well, it's not because I want to!" she protested. "He's a friend of my uncle's--and apparently a good one, if he's willing to do this." Delphi shook her head. "If you'd told me yesterday that today I'd have to suffer through dinner with Draco, Snape, and _my grandmother_ , I would've made sure to sleep through Christmas."

"Well," said Harry hesitantly, "at least your aunt and uncle actually want you around."

"Or they just want an opportunity to yell at me," said Delphi darkly. "I'm sure that's all my grandmother wants from me. She never had a nice word before; now I'm practically a blood traitor, so I'm sure she's just hoping for the chance to berate me before she disowns me."

"Well, chin up," said Ron. "At least it's Christmas. Did you get anything good?"

Delphi tamped down any linger guilt and merely offered Ron a shrug. "The usual, barring Hermione's gift. And Hagrid's."

Ron stared at her. "You got something from Hagrid? How come I didn't get anything from Hagrid?"

"I got something from Hagrid, too," said Harry. "He whittled a flute for me."

Delphi's brows lifted. "I got the exact same thing." She glanced at Ron. "Maybe he only had time to finish two before the holiday?" Ron shrugged, though it seemed more like he didn't want to care than that he really didn't. "I did think it was odd, though. I hadn't even realized Hagrid liked me, let alone that he might give me a gift of any kind. I feel a bit bad; I certainly didn't get him anything in return."

"I'm sure he'll understand," said Harry.

Ron gave Harry a very significant look. "Anyway, Harry got something really good this year."

Harry glanced nervously around them, then leaned across the table toward Delphini. She leaned forward, too, until they were close enough for Harry to murmur to her, "Someone gave me an invisibility cloak."

Delphi gasped. "You can't mean it!"

Ron grinned; apparently, this was exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for. "I almost couldn't believe it, either. I told Harry, they're rare and expensive, and no one in their right mind would ever give one to an eleven-year-old."

"Who _did_ give it to you?"

Harry shrugged. "The note wasn't signed. It just said that the cloak used to belong to my dad, and that now it should be returned to me."

Delphi nodded sagely. "That makes a bit more sense, I suppose. The Potters are an old family. Not like the Malfoys or the Blacks or the Lestranges, of course, but you're far from nobodies--dynastically speaking, I mean. Unless your parents squandered the entire fortune, you probably own all kinds of interesting things you don't even know about yet."

Ron looked suddenly very sour, and Harry cast him an uncomfortable glance so furtive and fleeting that Delphi almost missed it. The sight of it, though, confirmed to her that she must have misspoken somehow; clearly, she'd pissed Ron off, so she hurried to smooth it over. "What did you get for Christmas?" she asked him.

"Same old," he grumbled. "Sweater from mum, some sweets, a few things from Bill and Charlie."

"They're your eldest brothers, right?"

"Yeah." He seemed a bit surprised that she'd remembered. "They're both abroad, so sometimes they send some really interesting things along. Or pocket money."

Ron went on talking about an Egyptian luck charm that Bill had sent him last year, and Delphi let her attention wander. Up at the staff table, Snape was still glaring at her, and Delphi wondered how long it would be before he cornered her somewhere and dragged off to her aunt and uncle.

* * *

It was four o'clock when he came for her. As usual, Delphi was seated all but alone in the Slytherin common room, ignoring the scant number of older Slytherins scattered about the room. A very quiet murmur had filled the room as small groups of friends quietly conversed, and Delphi knew the instant Snape walked in by the unmistakable hush that captured everyone's voice.

"Miss Lestrange," Snape's usual just-above-a-whisper was as effective here as it was in the classroom. Delphi snapped out of her chair as if startled, though it was more nerves and dread than anything resembling surprise; he gave her an unimpressed look, then gestured impatiently for her to follow as he left the room.

Delphi scrambled after him, double-checking the pockets of her robes for her wand. There it was, nestled beneath the fabric, and she clung to it like a lifeline. She would need one where she was going.

Snape swept through the halls like a sinister phantom, his robes billowing behind him as he walked. Reminded horribly of dementors, Delphi hurried along on much shorter legs, and she tried her damnedest to maintain some degree of calm.

But as he led her out of the dungeons and then, finally, out of the castle itself, Delphi found it increasingly difficult to keep herself together. She hadn't thought she would have to face Lucius and Narcissa until June, and the tone of Aunt Cissy's letter weighed heavily on her mind. She felt guilty about not writing her aunt back--she'd felt so all along--but she had always told herself that it had been the right thing to do. Now that the time had finally come to explain herself, though... she wasn't quite so sure as before.

And the thought of trying to explain herself to the Malfoys while Madame Lestrange waited for her turn to berate her and Snape sneered over it all... Delphi knew already that she was going to be having nightmares about this for a long time to come.

Snape led her unhesitatingly off the grounds, and Delphi wondered vaguely how much the other teachers knew about this. She was sure that Dumbledore must know; for all his flaws, he didn't seem the type to let a student disappear from the school without his knowledge. But Delphi had the strangest feeling that if anyone could have stopped this, it had been him (the school governors be damned), and that he had chosen not to do so. She wondered if it was fair to despise him for it, and was then forced to admit that he probably didn't even know her name. She had no reason to expect favorable treatment--not from a Muggle-loving Gryffindor headmaster like Albus Dumbledore.

As soon as they were past the gate, Delphi realized that the trek to Hogsmeade would be a windy, freezing ordeal, but she was rather looking forward to it anyway. Students weren't normally permitted to visit the village until their third year, so she would be getting something of a sneak preview today.

No sooner had this thought occurred to her, however, than she realized that it wasn't true; Snape stopped very abruptly, and Delphi stumbled mid-stride. He sneered down his nose at her own wary expression, and it was with a sinking feeling that she realized they wouldn't be walking all the way to Hogsmeade after all. The wards against Apparating ended at the edge of school grounds; there was no reason for them to go any further than this.

"I assume you've experienced side-along Apparation before?" Delphi nodded. "Very well. Take my arm."

He thrust the arm in question toward her impatiently, and Delphi wrapped a very awkward, uncomfortable hand around his forearm. Then, with the threat of splinching herself in present company lurking in the back of her mind, Delphi wrapped her other hand around his elbow.

Snape didn't wait any longer than that. As soon as she had both hands on him, she felt the unmistakable tug and horrible squeezing sensation of Apparation. Delphi clenched her eyes tightly shut, and when her body no longer felt like it was being nearly crushed within a giant's fist, she reopened them to see the unmistakable gate of Malfoy Manor rising up in front of her.

They stood in a wide driveway, high hedges stretching up above them on either side. Snape shook his arm free of her, and Delphi followed him to the wrought-iron bars.

There was a loud crack, and Dobby the house elf appeared on the other side of the gate. He bowed very low until his nose nearly touched the gravel upon which he stood, and then a snap of his fingers opened the gate.

They both strode past him without a word, and once their backs were to him, he cracked away again.

Delphi felt a surge of... _something_ as the Manor came into view. It was already getting dark out, as they were well into the darkest fortnight of the year; white peacocks speckled the twilight, strutting about the manicured lawn. Delphi stared at the glittering front windows of the first home she had ever known--and only, if one were to discount the school--and felt, inexplicably, that there were tears in her eyes. She couldn't tell if they were happy tears or sad; she had no idea what she felt as they approached the front door and it swung open for them.

Delphi stepped back into the Malfoy home, Professor Snape at her side, and was thoroughly torn about which direction she should run: upstairs, toward the bedroom where she'd always felt so safe... or away from this place entirely. The only thing she didn't question was that she certainly did feel the urge to run.

Another crack, and there Dobby was again. "Mistress Malfoy is on her way," the elf said in his high-pitched, carrying voice, and Delphi wished more than anything that he hadn't said so. Still, at least Narcissa would be easier to handle than just about anyone else in the entire house.

Sure enough, rushed but dainty footsteps heralded Narcissa's arrival as she reached the upstairs landing and turned to descend the grand staircase in the center of the front hall. Delphi looked up at her aunt for the first time in nearly six months, and she found herself struck by a pointed longing for Harry's new invisibility cloak.

"Delphini!" Narcissa took the stairs faster than Delphi had ever seen her walk before, and then--even more surprisingly--Delphi felt herself being pulled into a very tight hug. "I've missed you!"

"Er, you too." Whatever she had been expecting, it was not this flood of appreciation. Narcissa, while an indulgent mother and auntie, had never been the most physically affectionate parent. Hugs were few and far between; Draco was like to get the occasional hair ruffle or cheek caress, but a tight embrace like this was a holiday rarity indeed. And as Narcissa squeezed her nearly as tightly as Snape's Apparation had done, Delphi felt a stab of guilt fiercer that any she'd felt before.

Finally, Narcissa pulled away, turning her beautiful face to Snape. "Severus!" she exclaimed, reaching out to grasp his hands. "Thank you for bringing her; I never would've gotten her here without you." Snape nodded briskly, and Narcissa went on. "Lucius is with Draco in the drawing room. Rudolphus's mother has not yet arrived, so there's no reason not to join them. I would accompany you, but first I would like to have a conversation with my niece."

This was it, then. Snape had been summarily dismissed so that Narcissa could have first crack at telling Delphi all the things she should be sorry for.

Snape left the room, leaving Delphi alone with her aunt in the entrance hall. "Come with me," Aunt Cissy said, taking Delphi's hand captive in her own before drawing her away. They stopped in a small sitting room, one where Delphi had seen Narcissa drag Lucius before when she was particularly upset with him. Delphi suspected that it was enchanted with muffling spells of some kind; every time she and Draco had pressed their ears against the door to eavesdrop on the Malfoy parents' arguments, they had ever managed to hear so much as a word.

Narcissa bade Delphi sit at a little velvet couch in the center of the room, and then she herself took the armchair opposite, on the other side of the coffee table.

"You have not been writing me back," she said simply. Delphi didn't answer; her only defense was that it had not actually be a question. "Draco, thankfully, has been keeping me informed at what you've been doing at the school. It's rather difficult to pry details out of him, I must admit, but something is at least better than nothing. You have, he claims, been doing well in your classes; from the way he tells it, it sounds as if you may be best in your year.

"On the other hand," she went on, and now they were obviously getting to the hard part, "he has complained a great deal about another very good student in your year, one it seems you have befriended. But I would certainly rather hear from you about what friends you've been making. I know the Parkinsons and the Greengrasses have daughters in your year; I take it that you share a dorm with them?"

"I do," Delphi mumbled, staring down at her lap. Her hands were tightly clenched atop her legs; she felt ashamed of herself, and she hated that she did, and on top of all that, she knew very well that the Delphi who existed this time last year would have had a few unpleasant things to say about the Delphi of this year. She dreaded that Narcissa might say any one of them, and she knew that if Aunt Cissy didn't, then Madame Lestrange certainly would.

"Well," Narcissa pressed, "tell me about Hogwarts."

"I'm... not friends with Parkinson or Greengrass. Pansy's a bully, and Daphne..." She had no good reason not to befriend Daphne Greengrass, she realized, except that there had been no point in pursuing friendship with someone who would never deign to share a friend with Harry Potter. "I have other friends."

"Tell me about them."

There was no getting around it, it seemed. "They're Gryffindors," Delphi admitted, and though this seemed the least objectionable thing about them, even it was hard to admit. She wondered how far she could go with her confessions before Narcissa lost her temper. (And with Draco playing the tattletale, surely Aunt Cissy already knew most of this anyway.) Perhaps it was best to just dive in. "And... well, I don't think you're going to like any of them, honestly. Erm, one of them is..." Merlin, where should she even start? Should she line them up worst to best, or best to worst? Either way, she was _screwed_. "Well, I've been spending a lot of time with Harry Potter."

Delphi didn't dare look up. Narcissa neither spoke nor moved. Delphi went on. "And, of course, that means I've been spending time with his friends. That would be, er, the youngest Weasley boy and..." Could she somehow avoid mentioning Hermione's blood status? Surely Draco must've spilled that secret already. "...Hermione. If I'm the best in our year--" (Delphi didn't dare suggest that this might be up for debate.) "--then she's easily second. I've no idea how she's not in Ravenclaw."

"And she's the mudblood, yes?"

Delphi flinched, then paused to marvel at her own reaction. She had heard that word so often growing up that hearing it should have been (always had been) nothing to her; the only thing that marked that word any different from any other was that the Malfoys had always impressed upon her that it was unwise to use it in uncertain company. But Delphi had just flinched at the very use of it, and she had the strangest sensation of having just come very close to being _caught_ doing something wrong. She didn't understand it.

"Her parents are Muggles, yes," Delphi said awkwardly. "But she's easily one of the best witches in the school."

Now, Delphi hazarded a glance up. Narcissa didn't look quite so pretty anymore; there was a very distasteful look on her face, as if Delphi had just shoved one of Sprout's more repulsive plants beneath her nose. "I see. And the Weasley?"

Delphi knew exactly what Narcissa was asking. Hermione's prowess was her meager justification; so what excuse did Delphi have for Ron?

"Well... he's nothing special. Just a boy. Harry likes him, though, so..." She shrugged.

"Tell me about him, then. What is little Harry Potter like?"

"Oh." Delphi squirmed under the scrutiny. "Well, he's... very nice." It was lame even to her own ears; Delphi tried harder. "He gets special treatment. I'm not surprised, of course, because he's incredibly famous, after all. But McGonagall put him on the Gryffindor Quidditch team herself, even though first years normally aren't allowed. He's got his own broom and everything. And he's not a terrible wizard. He's fairly smart, and he's very interested in magic, and... well, I'm sure that whoever he becomes friends with will have quite a bit of extra privileges just on account of being his friend."

Narcissa raised a near-white brow. "Draco told me that there was some sort of bet between the two of you?"

Delphi blushed faintly. "It was foolish, yes. Neither one of us thought we had much of a chance unless Harry was Sorted into Slytherin, but... well, there's no actual rules against having friends in other houses, it turns out. Just pressure."

"Is he a handsome little boy?"

Delphi was so startled that she could think of no reply. What was she to say to that? Why had Narcissa asked in the first place, and how was Delphi meant to respond? "Er...?"

"I ask because your grandmother seems to be under the impression that you are willfully attempting to ruin your marriage prospects. She intends to make sure you understand that while the Weasleys are pureblooded, they are not, as she put it, proper breeding stock." Delphi had a sudden image of herself surrounded by her own brood of too many redheaded children, and she shuddered horribly. "As for Harry Potter, his mother was a mudblood rather like your little friend--a passable witch, perhaps, but not worthy of any more respect or attention than that. And it should go without saying that Madame Lestrange has no warm feelings whatsoever toward the Boy Who Lived and his hopeful sycophants. To that point, I suggest that tonight you take care not to suggest that you have any further interest in Harry Potter than mere social climbing, whether or not that is true."

Delphi stared. Madame Lestrange honestly thought that, what, she had some kind of a crush on Harry Potter? He was an eleven-year-old little boy, scrawny and naive and as shaggy-headed as a wild dog. Maybe if he was a handsome fourth year or something like that, he might have caught her eye that way, but she doubted he'd even hit puberty yet. The very notion of a crush was absurd. (Though not terribly surprising, she supposed, coming from her grandmother. The woman had, after all, mentioned the idea of marrying _Draco_ just last summer. Clearly, she was _mad_.)

"Of course," Delphi said hurriedly. "That's no problem at all."

"Good," said Narcissa, and she offered Delphi a very faint smile. "Now, I'm sure your grandmother will be arriving soon, and I'm also sure that Professor Snape will want to take you back to Hogwarts the very instant we permit him to leave. So this may be my only chance to speak with you in person until... well, I suppose you'll want to stay at school for Easter break, as well. That puts us off until the summer, doesn't it? So for now, Delphi... _please_ stop ignoring my letters. I don't know what you're doing with yourself; you're making choices that, frankly, I find utterly ridiculous. And considering which sister's daughter you happen to be, they're utterly baffling, as well. But I'm not going to stop you from making them; you're growing up, and your mistakes will be your own. I'm only going to offer you this warning, and I'm going to offer it once." Delphi leaned closer in spite of herself, clinging to what she knew would be horrible words. "I have two sisters, Delphini, and I have not spoken to either of them in at least a decade. One of them is in Azkaban because she went far too deep into the Dark Lord's business. The other, I cut out of my life because she proved that the wrong sort can be born into any family--even the Blacks. Your aunt Andromeda, if she can still be considered your aunt after her disownment, married a Muggle, and she lost everything save what he could provide her. Should you recognize the possibility that you may one day do anything of that sort, then I suggest you be aware of what that truly means for you. You are a Lestrange, and your grandmother is as conservative as they come. If you continue along the path you're following now, I daresay you will eventually be disowned. Adrasteia is proud, old-fashioned, and incredibly judgmental. If you cannot uphold her ideals, then she will have no time for you and no place for you among her family. Lucius and myself... we're not quite so willing to let the girl we've raised go, but if you choose to turn your back on everything we value, then Malfoy Manor will be closed to you on the very day you turn seventeen."

Delphi's face felt like an inferno. It was a terribly uncomfortable blush, partially embarrassment but more significantly dread. She didn't know what to say to any of her aunt's words, and so she said nothing at all.

Filling the silence, Narcissa went on. "I'm sure that you'll make the right decision, my dear. You've always been a very bright little thing, albeit obstinate."

Narcissa stood, brushed off her robes, and gestured for Delphi too to rise. "We'll join the men in the drawing room, I think, until your grandmother arrives. I daresay Dobby will have the feast prepared by now, but we certainly can't begin until she's here."

Eyes downcast, Delphi followed her aunt from the little conversation room, down the hall, and into the drawing room where Lucius, Draco, and Snape were waiting. Draco, who had been talking to his father in that typically braggadocious tone of voice, fell silent the moment the two women entered the room. Delphi lingered uncertainly in the doorway, wary of the configuration. The way things were laid out, she had two options: either sit down beside Snape on the larger of the room's two couches, or beside Draco on the smaller.

She chose Draco. He sneered at her as she sat down beside him, pressing herself up against the arm of the sofa so she could be as far away from him as possible. On the other side of this room's coffee table, Lucius was watching her closely, but he said nothing. Delphi didn't know if that meant he was feeling even less charitable toward her than Narcissa was, but she didn't put it past him. She knew damn well a disownment from both the Lestranges _and_ the Malfoys was coming; she just didn't know how many days, months, or years off it might be.

"Well, then," Narcissa said cheerily, "what were you boys talking about? Draco, darling, I think you were saying something when we walked in?"

The boy's face, clouded by Delphi's arrival, now cleared and brightened. "We were talking about Quidditch," he said, and Delphi might've groaned if she wasn't so uncomfortable. "I'm hoping to be on the house team next year, but that means I'll need a good broom. It's hard for a second year to get onto the team, so I'll need every advantage."

"We'll see what we can do," Lucius said. "If the team lineup is still left in the hands of the _teenager_ tasked with captaining the team, I'm sure we won't have any real difficulties in getting you a spot."

This time, Delphi failed to entirely suppress her scoff. Lucius looked at her sharply, but Draco affixed her with a particularly malicious glare. "Oh, yes," he said sarcastically, "because I'm so sure that precious darling Potter got on the team in spite of the rules thanks to sheer skill. Not at all because McGonagall gives him special treatment!"

"Professor McGonagall," Delphi said coldly, "just doesn't give special treatment to anyone--not even Harry. She just wants her team to win."

Draco looked fit to kill. "Fine, then! Either way, she's breaking the school rules, putting him on the team, and she's gotten away with it! Even if she isn't giving Potter special treatment, Dumbledore's clearly giving it to her."

Delphi rolled her eyes but fell silent. She could feel the adults staring at her, and she hated having their judgment fixed upon her. She suddenly wished that, like Hermione or Harry or Ron, she could have the Malfoys' loathing from afar. The up-close-and-personal version was a lot more intimidating.

Yet another loud crack heralded Dobby's arrival in the room. "Madame Lestrange has arrived," he said, bowing again very low. Lucius gave him a nod, and Dobby cracked away once more.

"Well, Dobby will show her to the dining room," Narcissa said, rising. "So I daresay we join her. Draco, Delphi?"

Both students rose, and Draco nearly tripped Delphi (quite on purpose, she was sure) as she headed toward the door. She was shaking as she followed Narcissa and the others to the dining room; the closer she got to her grandmother, the more she thought she might hate the woman outright. She felt very like she was walking into the mouth of a cave wherein she knew a hungry dragon waited.

Madame Lestrange came striding up from the other direction just as the Malfoys, Snape, and Delphi neared the dining room door. "There you are!" she said briskly, and it didn't take more than a moment for her hawkish, unfriendly gaze to settle upon Delphini. "And so are you, it seems. I admit I was not sure if you were coming; Narcissa has not wanted to talk about you much, and that does make a grandmother suspicious."

"Let's have this conversation at the table, shall we?" Lucius said, gesturing for Delphi's grandmother to enter the room first. She did so immediately, sweeping through the door magisterially and taking her seat just to the right of the head of the table. Lucius took that spot with Narcissa at his left. Snape sat beside him, and Draco beside him, and Delphi very reluctantly took her place beside Madame Lestrange.

They did not, at first, continue the conversation at the table. Dobby served them, keeping his distance as each snap of his fingers brought food to their plates and wine to their glasses. It was as lavish as it had ever been, with roast turkey, duck, goose, and pheasant; beef wellington and Christmas ham; roast potatoes, parsnip, and carrots; mince pies; chipolata sausages wrapped in bacon; stuffing, gravy, and roasted chestnuts. By the time Dobby brought them dessert, Delphi had eaten a little bit of everything, and Madame Lestrange's wicked wrath had still not descended upon her.

But as the serving dishes were vanished away, still heaping with uneaten food, and the table became instead covered with a variety of Christmas cakes and other desserts (chocolate yule log and fruitcake, gingerbread and steaming mugs of hot chocolate, trifle and pudding), Delphi realized that Madame Lestrange had very deliberately withdrawn from her conversation with Lucius and Narcissa and was now staring directly at the so-far-silent Professor Snape.

If she was waiting for him to interact with her, however, she would be sorely disappointed. Snape very obviously saw that she was staring at him, and proceeded to do nothing in response. Delphi almost wanted to laugh, but more than that, she wanted to make sure that her grandmother's gaze did not instead fall upon her.

"So," Madame Lestrange said finally, apparently giving upon on Snape's obviously abysmal sense of propriety, "you're the current Head of Slytherin house at Hogwarts, am I correct?"

Lucius and Narcissa's conversation paused. "I am," Snape said tersely.

"How long have you looked at the school? You seem rather young." She narrowed her eyes. "How old _are_ you, at that?"

"I will be thirty-two in a fortnight. I have worked at Hogwarts since I was twenty-one."

Madame Lestrange hummed rather skeptically. "You have some experience teaching, then. So what can you tell me about this one?" She gestured toward Delphi, who froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. She set it down slowly, careful to look anywhere but at the other faces watching her.

"She is an exceptional student," Snape said. Delphi could already hear the implicit _but_ at the end of that sentence... so when it didn't come, she was very surprised. "She received several detentions last term, but her grades and obvious intelligence permit for some degree of... leeway for her eccentricities."

Madame Lestrange barked a laugh. "She is a child," she said, as if this was a terrible condemnation of Delphini's character and Snape was an utter imbecile for not realizing. "She has no eccentricities; she has misbehavior and disobedience, both of which I expect to be properly quashed. Or I would expect it, were she not attending Hogwarts. Durmstrang would not have permitted her to get away with her nonsense."

Snape let this lie; Madame Lestrange pressed her advantage. "What about her social circle? Surely you've noticed where she stands among the ranks of your own students. Is she popular; do the girls defer to her?"

"The other girls ignore her, and she spends the majority of her time with a handful of Gryffindors."

Madame Lestrange did not seem surprised to hear this. She breathed sharply out her nose, shook her head disbelievingly, and then affixed her sinister eyes upon Delphi. "Mrs Parkinson tells me her granddaughter believes you a blood traitor. Tell me, girl, wherever would she get such an impression of you?"

Delphi could run't from this. She could try to obscure the truth and attempt to hold her secrets, but it would earn her nothing but her grandmother's rage and scorn. Delphi was very much in trouble--and definitely heading for disownment--no matter what she did or said. The only thing that could save her from this would be to leave her friends behind her to become the model Slytherin granddaughter than Madame Lestrange had always wanted.

Delphi could not do that. So, if she was going to face the music either way... she might as well have her dignity.

"Probably because I've made friends with Harry Potter," Delphi said, and though her voice was as unwavering as she could make it, she couldn't bring herself to meet her grandmother's eyes. "Not to mention the only other student in the year who can compete with me. She's Muggleborn, but she's good enough that I'm not going to hold that against her."

A quick glance at the old woman's face revealed that finally, there was surprise there. "Brash little brat, you're not even ashamed of yourself, are you? I must say, I suspected something like this all along. Narcissa always wanted to tell me that I was being paranoid and cynical, but little girls like you... I knew you would go wrong. My only grandchild, the last hope for the Lestrange line, and you're going to muck it up for all of us, aren't you? If there's one good thing I can say for your mother, it's that she would never have let you get away with this. She would've had you out of Hogwarts already, the very second she heard that you were anywhere near that boy."

"Harry is--"

"I do not give a damn what Harry Potter is or is not. What I care about, girl, is _my_ reputation, my family, and my name. You're a foolish little thing, and you are headed down a particularly foolish path. Tell me, what exactly do you intend to get out of this little teenage rebellion of yours, and how long do you think I have to wait before you either come to your senses or allow me to give up on you entirely?"

Delphi's courage was flagging beneath the tirade. She wanted to tell her grandmother to eff off, but she certainly didn't have the death wish necessary for _that_. Instead-- "I don't know, grandmother. I know that I have friends, and I know that I'm going to grow up to be a talented witch, and I know that at least two of my friends have very bright futures ahead of them. I think--since you asked--that I'm going to be quite alright whether you like me or not."

Madame Lestrange's thin brows were nearly at her hairline, and she looked very much displeased. But it appeared that she was done with Delphini for now, and so she said with an air of very distinct finality, "You'll see the light, Delphini. Or perhaps you won't. Whatever you choose to do, _I_ will not be harmed by your decisions."

And that was that. Madame Lestrange turned away from her, and she dove back into conversation with Lucius and Narcissa as if she'd never even paused. Delphi sagged in her chair, feeling exhausted by the entire ordeal, and she could practically feel Draco gloating on the other side of the table. She hazarded a glance--and sure enough, he was smirking at her. Beside him, though... Snape too was watching Delphi, his expression utterly inscrutable. Delphi looked away quickly, returned her attention to her dessert, and waited out the rest of the meal in silence.

* * *

When at last the night was over, Madame Lestrange did not linger long. She had obviously wanted nothing more than to chastise and threaten her granddaughter; now that said conversation was over, she stayed only long enough to avoid any indictment against her manners. As soon as she had departed, Snape too announced that he and Delphi had to be going. Delphi needed to be back before curfew, he insisted, and so he had to take her back to the castle now.

Lucius and Narcissa offered her the necessary hugs and cheek-kisses goodbye, then forced Draco to do the same. (Delphi hadn't seen him look so sour-faced about something since Harry had gotten his new Nimbus.) Not a moment later than their goodbye to Snape, in which they promised to invite him back soon and he made no noticeable effort to even imply that he was looking forward to it, Snape all but dragged her out of the Manor, down the driveway, and to the other side of the front gate, where he Apparated them away so quickly that she very nearly fell flat on her face once her feet were back on Scottish ground.

"You will go directly to bed," Snape said coldly. "There will be no visits to your friends in other houses tonight. Do not let me catch you wandering the halls."

Delphi didn't dare to disobey.

* * *

At breakfast on Boxing Day, Delphi expected to commiserate with her friends about the horrible dinner she'd endured the night before and the lavish feast they had enjoyed here in the castle all the while. Instead, she found herself listening to Harry tell both her and Ron a very surprising tale.

"I suppose it just struck me as I was falling asleep," Harry was saying, "that the cloak must have been given to me for some reason. It was like an opportunity; the whole school was open to me, so long as I had it on." He glanced apologetically toward Ron. "I thought about waking you," he admitted, "but... well, I wanted to try it myself before I shared it with anyone."

Delphi could see a hint of a dark look about Ron's features as Harry said this, and her mind flickered back to yesterday, when she'd mentioned Potter heirlooms, and Ron had looked so sour at the thought.

But Ron said nothing, and the look passed. Oblivious, Harry went on. "I didn't really know where to go, of course, so I just wandered around for a while. I ended up in the Restricted Section of the library, just nosing around, but I didn't have a chance to find anything. Snape and Filch were lurking around, and they almost caught me, but I hid in this classroom that I'd never seen before--and you'll never believe what I found in there!"

He paused, as if waiting for Ron and Delphi to guess. Neither did. "I found this mirror," Harry said, and Delphi gasped in recognition. Ron gave her a funny look. "So I looked into it, because what else are you supposed to do with a mirror, and what was it doing there it doing there in the first place. And do you know what I saw?"

Delphi couldn't wait to hear. "Yourself?" Ron suggested.

"Not just me," Harry said. "There were all these other people in the mirror who weren't in the room with me, and when I looked closer... I think they were my family--my mum and dad and... everyone."

Delphi did not know how this had not occurred to her before. She had truly been waiting for Harry's response, as if it could ever have been anything but that. Perhaps she hadn't really understood it until those words came out of Harry's mouth, but he, like her, had never known his parents--and he, unlike her, had lost them to death through no fault of their own. Delphi didn't much miss her parents; they were two people locked away in a far-off, island prison, so surrounded by dementors and despair that even if they ever managed to break out, there was a good chance they would both be as mad as they had made their victims. But Harry's parents had been young and well-liked by the wizarding world beyond the Malfoy's little pureblood corner of it, and Delphi suddenly had no doubts that they would've been far better parents to him than hers could ever have been to her. Harry have every right to miss them--to feel such deep sorrowful and loss over them that his longing for them, whole and alive and at his side, would be the one thing captured by the Erised Mirror.

_I show not your face but your heart's desire._

When Delphi looked into the Mirror, she saw her old life mesh with her new, and she knew there was little chance of it ever happening.

When Harry looked into the Mirror, he saw the family that had been stolen from him, and there was no chance whatsoever that he could ever have them back.

Harry could only ever have his heart's desire if he too was to die.

"Your parents?" Ron repeated while Delphi remained lost in thought. "That's amazing..." He scowled. "You could've woken me up!"

"You can come tonight," Harry offered. "I'm going back. I want to show you the mirror." He glanced at Delphi. "Do you think you can sneak out?"

Delphi had practiced this, and it had gotten much easier now that the common room was so empty. "Easily," she said, perhaps bragging a bit too much. "I know a spell. Not as good as an invisibility cloak, of course, but it'll do."

"Then you can meet us--"

"I can meet you right in that empty classroom," Delphi interrupted. "I know where it is. I've been there before."

Ron and Harry both gaped at her. "You've what?" blurted Ron. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because what that Mirror shows you... I wanted to keep it private. I still do."

The boys exchanged confused glances. "You don't want us to see your family?" asked Harry.

Delphi shook her head. "That's not how it works," she said gently. "Didn't you see the inscription on the Mirror's frame? It's backwards. It says, _I show not your face but your heart's desire._ The Mirror doesn't show you your family, Harry, it shows you something you want. Something you want really strongly, maybe even the thing you want the most."

Harry, who Delphi expected to blush, instead looked speculative. "I hadn't noticed," he murmured.

"What you want the most?" repeated Ron. "Blimey, I've never even thought of that. I want all kinds of things; how does it know what I want the most?" He suddenly stared straight at Delphi. "What did you see?"

"I've just said it's private."

"Not your family, I'm willing to bet."

Delphi shrugged. It was half-true, she supposed. She certainly hadn't seen her parents, or her grandmother, or even Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa. But Draco... she had seen him. She had loved him, and she had wanted nothing more than to have his friendship back. Was that still what she wanted, though? She wasn't sure anymore. "So, I'll meet you there tonight, yeah?"

Harry nodded, but he didn't seem to be listening to her very well. If anything, he appeared lost in thought. He barely touched his breakfast.

* * *

That night, Delphi waited in front of the Erised Mirror for an hour that night before Harry and Ron appeared. She was relieved for this, though; it gave her the chance to take another look at her reflection without any eye watching but her own.

Delphi stepped in front of it almost as soon as she entered the abandoned classroom. She didn't expect anything to have changed. Last time she'd been here, over two months ago, she had been given unexpected insight into her own psyche. She hadn't realized then that having both Draco and Harry on her side had been her most fervent desire; only after she'd seen it in the context of the Mirror's inscription had she finally realized this truth about herself.

Even then, though, she had already been coming to terms with the fact that their friendship was something she would never see realized. Harry and Draco were never going to get along, and as she had known it in October, she too knew it as the year died in December. Was it still what she wanted the most? She didn't know for sure... but she couldn't help thinking of her time at the Manor last night, and she wondered if perhaps...

Perhaps she should have expected something to have changed after all.

Delphi lifted her gaze to the Mirror, and she stared into her reflection's eyes.

Delphi's reflection stood alone. Neither Draco or Harry, nor Ron or Hermione or anyone else flanked her like last time. And... Delphi recognized that it was herself staring back at her, but Delphi's reflection was much changed from the real thing. The woman in the Mirror was just that--a fully grown, adult woman, and even with the pane of glass between them, Delphi could practically feel the power wafting off this woman like some intoxicating perfume. She was tall and mature, beautiful but intimidating; she held her wand at her side, always at the ready, and there was something cold--something almost wicked--in her eyes as her lips quirked into a tiny smile.

The reflection looked back at Delphini and winked.

Delphi tore her gaze from the glass, her consciousness struggling to encompass this newest message from her subconscious. What exactly was the Mirror showing her?

It was, she thought, a fantasy of herself after leaving Hogwarts, having finally realized the truth depths of her potential.

And what, she wondered, had made the Mirror show her this? Was this truly her deepest desire? Was what she wanted most in the world truly to be that woman smirking back at her?

She thought of the books she'd been reading, and of Boros still wandering the school somewhere; she thought of her grandmother's judgment, of her friendship with Harry and Hermione; she thought of her rift with Draco; and she thought of her lessons with Quirrell.

It was true, she realized. That woman in the Mirror, that was how she imagined herself in the future; she wanted to consider herself every bit as regal and deadly as that woman so clearly appeared.

That the woman appeared alone, though... that concerned her. If she had seen herself like while also surrounded by her friends, whether Harry and Draco or Harry, Ron, and Hermione, she didn't think she would've been concerned. But standing alone like that... she wondered if that was a reflection of some secret wish to be alone, or whether she was merely so selfish that her most fervent heart's desire these days truly involved no one else besides herself.

Delphi pondered these questions until Harry and Ron stumbled through the doorway, and though she chased her thoughts in circles for the better part of an hour, she came to no good answers.

* * *

The sudden appearance of Harry and Ron startled Delphi from her worrying. The door to the room burst open, and Harry had thrown the cloak from his shoulders before Delphi even had a chance to fear that she might be caught by someone else; Ron closed the door behind them as Harry sprinted toward the Mirror as if racing to embrace a long-lost friend.

"Do you see them?" Delphi asked carefully. She didn't want them to suspect that her reflection had changed; she couldn't justify it to herself just yet, and she certainly didn't want to try to explain it to them.

"Yeah," Harry breathed. His fingertips touched the glass. "My mum and dad. They're smiling at me. I think it's their own parents standing behind them. Can you see them all?"

Delphi shook her head as Ron came up beside her, holding Harry's cloak. "No. I can see you, but I can't see anyone else. The magic must only work for the person who's looking dead-center, and no one else can see what they do."

Delphi wished she could say that this made her sad; she had wanted to see Harry's parents, after all. But truthfully, it relieved her more than anything else. If she couldn't see Harry's secret wishes, then at least Harry and Ron couldn't see hers.

"Let me have a go!" Ron exclaimed, and Harry seemed rather reluctant as he shifted out of the way.

Ron's jaw dropped as he took the center spot. "It works! I almost can't believe it!"

"What do you see?" Harry asked.

"It's me," said Ron. "I'm alone, but I look different. I'm older. I'm Head Boy--and I think Quidditch captain, too! I've got the house cup in one hand, and the Quidditch cup in the other!"

Delphi's brows lifted. That wasn't so different from what she had just seen, was it? Ron saw himself older, more prestigious. Delphi decided she felt a bit less bad about her own selfish wants.

"You don't think this mirror shows the future, do you?" Ron asked, barely able to tear his eyes away. He seemed to be drinking in every detail of himself, as if the very memory of the sight might slip away as soon as he blinked his eyes.

For the briefest, most fleeting moment, Delphi let herself believe it. She imagined a future in which she would become that wonderful, terrible woman, and one in which she would spend the rest of her time at school flanked on either side by her cousin and the Boy-Who-Lived.

"How can it?" Harry asked, so quiet that Delphi almost didn't hear. "Both my parents are dead." He took a step toward Ron. "Let me have another look."

Something about the way he said it sent a chill racing down Delphi's spine. He sounded off, sounded _desperate_ , and Delphi was suddenly very sure that Harry's true deepest desire in that moment was _not_ to reunite with his parents, but to stare at the illusion of them within the Erised Mirror.

And Delphi grabbed Harry very tightly by the arm, putting a sudden, startled stop to the budding fight between him and Ron.

"Harry, I don't think it's a good idea to stay in this room. We should--"

"Did you hear that?" Ron asked, and then Delphi felt the cloak being thrown over herself and both the boys. A split second later, the door creaked open, and Delphi watched Mrs. Norris slink into the room. The cat seemed to stare at them for a long, tense moment in which none of the three dared breathe--and then she crept back into the corridor, and the trio exchanged a worried look.

"She'll probably get Filch," Ron breathed. "We'd best get out of here."

Delphi Disillusioned herself before she stepped out from beneath the cloak. "You two head back to your common room," Delphi whispered to them. She couldn't have been more relieved when she heard Ron drag Harry away with a whispered goodnight.

Right before she too left the room, Delphi glanced back at the Mirror. She had a sneaking suspicion that there might be quite a bit more Darkness to it than it at first appeared.

* * *

Harry was still out of sorts at breakfast the next morning, ignoring Ron and Delphi's cautious, whispered warnings not to return to the eerie Mirror. Delphi felt terrible that she hadn't been able to warn Harry away before he'd ever discovered the thing, but she truly hadn't realized that there could be any kind of danger. But Harry, who had experience such loss already at such a young age and had obviously felt such earnest longing for his parents for a full decade now, was clearly far more susceptible to the magic of the Mirror's temptation than either Delphi or Ron.

Harry didn't eat, barely spoke, and could not be swayed. He left breakfast without even saying goodbye to Delphi, and he didn't reappear for lunch. This was not so terribly surprising, as students still at the school during holiday could take their lunch in their common rooms, but Ron _was_ there, and he'd clearly been waiting for Delphi.

"We've got to do something about Harry," he said quietly as they sat down side-by-side at the Gryffindor table.

"What can I do?" she asked. "I don't think I'm allowed in your common room, and it's not like I can stop him from going back to the room tonight."

"You leave the common room to me," said Ron. "I'll try to stop him from going out, but I wouldn't put it past him to sneak around me. But you can Disillusion yourself, can't you? Without the cloak, I can't go sneaking around the castle after Harry, trying to stop him. But you can. You could head him off on the way to the room."

She could, of course, but she wasn't sure how that helped. "And do what, exactly? He clearly isn't going to be convinced to willingly forget the Mirror, and it's not like I can lock him out of the room, not when he knows _alohamora_. I supposed I could start researching stronger locking spells, or maybe a sticking charm for the door..."

"Whatever we do, we'd better do it soon," said Ron ominously. "He's got to get his head on straight again before the new term starts, or we're really going to have a problem. It's only been two days, and he's already starting to look a bit like a zombie. He's not sleeping, he's barely eating. If it goes any longer than another few days, I don't see how we have any choice but to tell McGonagall."

Delphi knew what they were both thinking--if Hermione were here, she would've already been in McGonagall's office, spilling the whole story so that someone with more authority could handle the problem better than they. Once again, Delphi was forced to note how much she and Ron had in common; even if a teacher would be able to help them solve the problem, they would both much rather keep it between themselves.

"We'll give it a few days. I'll do what I can tonight, but I really don't know that I'm going to be able to convince him of anything. I really think our best bet is to just lock that classroom's door."

* * *

Delphi began her research right away, and it carried her until the night. She practiced in her dorm room, trying repeatedly to lock her trunk with a powerful enough spell that her _alohamora_ couldn't break it. But either the spells she kept finding were too weak, or her unlocking charm was too strong; nothing she tried worked. She too tried finding a good sticking charm, but she wasn't having much luck on that front. She found a few good spells for sticking things to walls and ceilings, and others for fusing things together, but she couldn't find a single powerful-enough sticking charm that had a surefire countercharm with which she could later unstick the door.

She hated the thought, after all, of eventually getting caught having permanently sealed off what was clearly a powerful magical object that at least _someone_ else in the school must know about.

* * *

For the second time in two days, Delphi found herself waiting silently, Disillusioned, in the Erised Mirror room. This time, it was only a half-hour before Harry appeared, but Delphi did not once glance toward the reflective glass as the minutes passed.

When Harry did finally arrive, invisibly pushing the door open and very nearly barreling over Delphi in his haste to get to his parents' shades, Delphi caught him once again by the arm and tried her best.

"Harry, wait a minute. You're not thinking clearly."

He shook his arm roughly, trying to pull away from her. Her fingers tightened, viselike. "I am. It's none of your business. They're my parents--you wouldn't understand."

"I understand, Harry, I do. My parents aren't dead, but I don't remember them, either. I can understand wanting to see what that Mirror shows you, but... this isn't good for you. Look at the dark circles under your eyes! When was the last time you even slept?"

Harry shook his arm, breaking free. He started toward the Mirror, and Delphi followed with a sigh. She watched as Harry sat down right in front of the mirror, gazing into it like he was scrying with a crystal ball. Delphi lingered, uncertain whether to join him--or do something much more drastic--when a voice startled her every thought away.

"Back again, I see."

Harry looked as horrified as Delphi felt, and the two of them turned to see-- _sweet Merlin_ \--Albus Dumbledore sitting in the corner of the abandoned classroom, perched upon a desk that Delphi was sure had been unoccupied only a moment ago.

It terrified her to think that she hadn't been the only Disillusioned person in the room tonight. How long had the headmaster been sitting there?

"I--I didn't see you, sir," Harry said anxiously. Delphi stared down at the ground. Her heart was hammering; she had a terrible certainty that they were going to be expelled for this. Not only for being out of bounds after hours, but for having for having found this terrible Mirror at all.

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," Dumbledore said, and Delphi was surprised to realize that his tone was of amusement, not of wrath.

The wizened old man, long-rumored to be the only wizard that the Dark Lord had ever feared, hopped like a leprechaun from atop the desk and sat down beside Harry on the ground before the Mirror. Delphi lingered awkwardly above them both. "So, the two of you--and young Mr Weasley, of course--like hundred of others before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

Delphi's stomach dropped. If Dumbledore knew that Ron had been here with them last night, then he either had good spies throughout the entire castle... or else he had been here with them then, too. Both possibilities frightened her. What else had slipped past her knowing, right beneath her nose?

"But, I also see that you have begun to realize that this Mirror is not so harmless as it at first might seem."

"It's dangerous, then?" Delphi asked quietly. Dumbledore glanced up at her; she fought her hardest not to shrink back.

"Not to everyone. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised as a normal mirror. That is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. The rest of us, however, must take a bit more care."

"It shows us what would make us happiest?" Harry whispered. "What would make us... whole?"

"Not precisely, Harry, no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them." He glanced again toward Delphi, as if expecting her to volunteer her own most secret longing. She did not. "However, this mirror with give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

Any lingering uncertainty that Delphi had felt about the Mirror fled from her. Dumbledore had just confirmed her exact suspicions; the longer Harry was allowed to look into that Mirror, the more he risked losing himself forever to its lies.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow," Dumbledore continued, "and I must ask that neither of you nor Mr Weasley go looking for it again. If you ever _do_ run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget live, remember that. Now, Harry, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up. Dumbledore lingered.

"Sir--Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask your something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," said Dumbledore with an indulgent smile. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the Mirror?"

The bold question startled Delphi; it was a very private thing to ask someone. She had expected Harry to have a bit more tact, at least in front of the headmaster of the school. But she turned to Dumbledore anyway, eager to hear any response he might give.

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." At Harry's look of incredulity, the professor went on, "One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone, and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books." His blue eyes seemed to twinkle in the dim light. "Now, off to bed, Harry. I would like to speak to Miss Lestrange for a moment."

Delphi's eyes widened; Harry glanced at her, then threw the cloak over himself and disappeared. The door opened, then shut, and Delphi wondered if he was truly gone; surely Dumbledore must know.

Apparently believing them truly alone, the old man turned to her. She watched his eyes scan her face; what he might be looking for in her expression, she didn't know.

"When did you find this Mirror?" he asked finally.

"Months ago," she admitted.

"But you did not return here until Harry discovered it?"

"No, sir. I don't think it has quite the same effect on me as it has on him."

"No, I daresay it does not. Some of us are not so easily enraptured. But of course, Harry has experienced a great deal of loss."

Delphi had not failed to notice that Dumbledore had not once looked toward the Mirror himself since he had made him visible. He was still sitting right in front of it, but his eyes had always been upon Harry or Delphi--never his reflection.

"It's no surprise to me that Harry sees his family in the Mirror," Dumbledore went on. "The older one gets, I think, the more likely it is that we will see in the Mirror loved ones who we feel we have lost. People with whom we would do anything to be reunited. What do you see in the Mirror, Delphini?"

Delphi couldn't stop herself--she glanced toward her reflection for the first time that night. Her imaginary older self smirked back at her, unchanged from yesterday. She felt the surge of emotions bubble up inside her--and she slammed them all back down beneath a dam.

She turned back to Dumbledore, forcing herself to such perfect calm as the eye of a storm. "I got a lot of books for Christmas, too, professor. I think I might also like a pair of socks."

Dumbledore stared at her, his expression unreadable--but Delphi recognized that there was no indulgent smile or bright twinkle in his eye now that Harry was gone.

Dumbledore knew she was lying to him as certainly as she knew he had been lying to Harry.

"Goodnight, Miss Lestrange," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Goodnight, sir," Delphi said, and only after she left the room, the headmaster, and that horrible Mirror behind her did she allow herself, finally, to panic.

* * *

By the time Delphi finally returned to the common room, she had calmed significantly. She hadn't gotten into trouble; she had to keep telling herself that. Dumbledore had caught her, but he hadn't punished her. He had merely warned her not to do it again, and from the sound of things, it had been more for her safety than for the sake of school rules. But he _had_ asked her what she'd seen in the Mirror, and Delphi couldn't help thinking that the motive there might have been a bit less altruistic.

Why did Dumbledore care what she saw? Was he worried about her, the Death Eaters' daughter who had found a place in Harry Potter's inner circle? That made sense, surely; if anyone in the school might be a threat to him, it would be those children whose parents used to serve the Dark Lord. And since she was the only such child taking any significant interest in the Boy Who Lived, Delphi realized that she shouldn't have been surprised if Dumbledore was keeping a very close, suspicious eye on her indeed.

The very thought hurt her feelings to a rather absurd degree, but Delphi didn't have time to dwell on that now. As soon as she had walked into the Slytherin common room and lifted her Disillusionment, she realized her mistake.

"Enjoy your stroll about the castle?" a slippery voice hissed from somewhere the nearly pitch black room. " _Lumos! _"__

Severus Snape's face, eerily and horribly illuminated by the torchlight of his wand, sneered at her from within a shadow. He wasn't even in his nightclothes, so clearly he had never gone to bed; he must have been waiting up to catch her.

Delphi couldn't think of a single thing to say. Should she mention Dumbledore? Surely Snape wouldn't believe her if she claimed that the headmaster had given her permission to be out after curfew... and somehow she doubted that the old man's decision not to punish her would actually convince Snape to decide the same.

"Where were you, Lestrange?"

Delphi didn't know what to say. "Just... exploring, professor. Looking in abandoned classrooms, avoiding Mrs Norris, that sort of thing."

Snape, his face harshly lit among the shadows, glared. He looked rather like a gargoyle. "You had no destination in mind? No goal? You weren't _meeting_ anyone?"

Delphi hesitated. What did he mean by that? Did he know Harry had been out tonight, as well? Or did he know that Dumbledore had intercepted her? Or...

He couldn't possibly think she'd been to see Quirrell, could he?

"I..." Delphi struggled to find a lie he'd believe. She could only think of one, and she feared the kind of trouble it might bring upon her. "I was trying to build up the nerve to break into the Restricted Section, professor," she said finally. "I wanted to see if I could find the library's copy of the book you took from me."

"You are not allowed to read that book. Hence the word _restricted_."

"I'm sorry, sir. I just... wanted to finish it."

Delphi couldn't tell if he believed her or not. His expression hadn't changed either way. "You are not allowed outside the common room after curfew, Miss Lestrange, not even during Christmas break. You will be serving detention with me." Delphi opened her mouth to protest. "And because you continue to defy me at every opportunity, I think we should make it a standing appointment. You will be in my classroom every Friday evening from now until I say otherwise. Do you understand?"

Delphi felt her heart clench. Snape had just told her two very terrible things:

One, that he _definitely_ knew about her Friday evening meetings with Quirrell.

And two, that when the older students returned to Hogwarts, the Slytherin prefect that had threatened Delphi against getting into any more trouble would _not_ be pleased. She still didn't know exactly what he and his friends planned to do to her... and had hoped very much never to find out.

"But sir, I--"

Snape's expression grew, impossibly, even more hateful. "Get to bed, now, before you make things worse for yourself. I do not accept insolence from any student, Lestrange--not even Slytherins. _Go._ "

* * *

Delphi went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. With her mind captured by the memory of her belongings tossed about as if a tornado had come through, Delphi carefully shoved everything she owned--all her clothes, all her books, everything but her wand--into the trunk at the foot of her bed, and she sealed it shut with the strongest of the locking spells she'd managed to find that day. It wouldn't do much to stop anyone who really wanted to get in there, but at least it might slow them down.

She went to bed tenser than she'd ever been in her life, and she told herself that she would be ready for whatever terrible confrontation the older students might have in mind.

* * *

It came on the last day of the Christmas break. The students returned to the castle, and both the common room and Delphi's dormitory grew crowded again. None of the other girls seemed to notice that Delphi no longer let so much as a single quill linger outside her trunk when not in use--save perhaps Lilly Moon, whose watchful eyes sometimes seemed to remind Delphi oddly of the headmaster's. (It took her a while to put her finger on why, and when she finally did, she didn't like it. Lilly and Professor Dumbledore had one thing in common: they both gave Delphi the uncomfortable suspicion that they knew far more than they were letting on.)

Delphi made it through the day without incident, though admittedly she barely even got out of bed. She dreaded tomorrow, knowing very well that it must bring with it the confrontation she so feared... and yet when dinnertime rolled around, her stomach roared its hunger at her, and she decided reluctantly to rise.

She did not make it to the Great Hall. She didn't even make it out of the common room before the Prefect and his cronies confronted her.

"Lestrange!" the Prefect yelled, and a hush fell over the room. It was mostly empty, the majority of the students already headed toward the Great Hall for their first meal back at school, but there were enough people around that Delphi felt a bit more confident that what's-his-name and his friends wouldn't do anything _too_ terrible.

Not while people were watching, at least.

"What?"

"I've just been told that you've gotten yourself into trouble again. Would you like to explain to me why you have a standing detention with Professor Snape _every week 'til the end of term_?"

"I would not."

"Cheeky little brat. No wonder Snape hates you." The prefect, flanked on either side by his friends, approached Delphi. They were all so tall compared to her, so much more educated, trusted with so much more power, and respected by their peers. Delphi was small compared to them, and she felt like it, too; whatever they did to her now, she feared, they were going to get away with it.

Terrified but very much unwilling to show it, Delphi pulled her wand out of her pocket. She didn't yet point it at the boys, but she would if she had to. She wasn't going to take _any_ sort of beating--metaphorical or otherwise--without a fight.

It was a move that did not go unnoticed. "Look at that," said Terrence Higgs. "She thinks she's going to fight us. How _cute_."

The prefect smirked. "She's _scared_." He leaned down, bringing his face close enough to Delphi's that she could faintly feel his breath on her skin. It was as intimidating a move as he clearly intended. "But we're not going to _hurt_ you, you stupid little girl. Do you realize how many points we'd get taken away for that? How much detention we'd get, even from Snape? Or don't you consider things like that?"

He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder; Delphi roughly shrugged it off, taking a step back. "Slytherins are _supposed_ to consider things like that, Lestrange. There's a reason Slytherin always wins the house cup. We know how to play the game. We know how to bend the rules and how to toe the line. We avoid getting ourselves caught in wrongdoing, and we have at least basic respect for the legacy of our house. You, clearly, do not share these values of ours."

Delphi could no longer meet his gaze. His eyes gleamed in a way that didn't seem entirely _together_ , and a primal part of her brain was screaming at the rest of her to run very far away from this boy.

"Slytherin has never lost the house cup for as long as I've been at this school, d'you realize? And you're going very far out of your way to try to lose it for us this year. Detentions, points from Slytherin. How long until you _really_ cost us? If I'm being perfectly honest, I don't even want you here anymore. You're not a Slytherin; you don't even want to be. You're friends with Gryffindors. You sit at the Gryffindor table. And do you know what, little girl? From now on, you can sleep with the Gryffindors, too."

Delphi stared at him, struggling to comprehend. "I--"

"You!" The prefect nodded to an older girl lingering nearby. "Get her trunk from her dormitory." He turned back to Delphi, smiling just like the Chesire cat from Hermione's book. "It doesn't belong in there anymore."

Delphi watched in horror as the girl hurried to obey; she returned a minute later with Delphi's trunk hovering before her.

"Put it outside," the prefect said coldly. Delphi watched the girl float her trunk out into the corridor. "Now, little brat. Get the _fuck_ out of my common room. We only allow Slytherins in here."

And with his ultimatum uttered, he lifted his hand and placed the tip of his wand to the underside of Delphi's jaw.

Delphi's hand trembled, her fingers wrapped tight around her own wand. He'd said he wouldn't hurt her, but she knew damn well that he could do plenty else that wouldn't _quite_ qualify as hurt.

"Alright," Delphi said quietly, and she walked on shaking legs right out of Slytherin common room.

"And don't come back!" she heard someone else yell at her as she went.

Delphi's hands were trembling so badly that _wingardium leviosa_ failed to work at all. Utterly at a loss, Delphi seized her trunk by the handle, thanking herself for her good sense in properly packing up her things, and started dragging it down the corridor.

She had a particularly daring destination in mind.


	10. Bear and Endure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Bear and endure: This sorrow will one day prove to be for your good." -Ovid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took quite a bit longer to write than I meant it to and ended up only half as long as I was expecting; sorry about that! A host of little things conspired to kill my motivation for a while there, which is honestly pretty usual for this time of year (something I should probably look into...). I _think_ I've got a handle on things going forward, and there are only a four more planned chapters of this installment, so I'm at the very least going to push through those before considering taking a break between finishing this and starting the sequel.
> 
> Without further ado, here's the next chapter. As per usual, it includes some quotes carried over from Rowling's work, etc, etc.

The thing about Hogwarts was that no matter how much one explored the castle, some places would always be difficult to find. The Gryffindor common room was not one of those places. Unlike the Slytherin common room in the hard-to-navigate dungeons or the still-unknown-to-Delphi entrance to the Hufflepuff common room somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchens, the entrance to the Gryffindor common room was no great secret among the students, regardless of house. The Gryffindors spoke rather openly, after all, of the portrait simply called "the fat lady" who guarded the entrance and opened only for those with the correct password. And though there was certainly more than one portrait in the castle featuring a large-bodied woman, only one was situated anywhere that could reasonably have lead to someplace alternately known as "Gryffindor tower".

Trudging along dejectedly on her way to that very place, Delphi dragged her trunk behind her. It made a terrible scraping sound all the while, and Delphi was sure that sooner or later she was going to run into either Mrs Norris or Filch, either of which would result in a great deal of trouble for her. Worse yet, she might run into someone more intimidating than a glaring cat or an eerie old man; she dreaded the thought of being caught out like this by someone like Peeves or McGonagall or _Snape_.

When finally her hands were no longer shaking and she had calmed herself enough to try again, Delphi took back up her wand. She Disillusioned her trunk carefully, repeating the spell three times before it worked well enough for her liking. Grasping the now-invisible trunk by the handle with one hand to make sure she didn't lose it, Delphi lifted it with a mutter of _wingardium leviosa_ , and she crept along with it like that, feeling very awkward indeed.

By the time she made it to the portrait of the fat lady, she could hear that dinner had ended. The other students had already begun spilling into the halls some minutes ago, it seemed, because all of a sudden a whole horde of them was coming up behind her. Delphi stuffed herself into an alcove and a waited for them all to pass; even though she hadn't bothered to Disillusion herself along with her trunk, no one noticed her.

Once the crowd had gone, Delphi stepped out from her hiding place and approached the unmistakable portrait. It had been just far enough out of earshot that she hadn't overheard the password, but she rather doubted that barging in without an invitation would be a good idea anyway. Unfortunately, she also hadn't seen any of her friends in the little crowd. She thought she might've glimpsed Percy Weasley, but she certainly wasn't going to ask _him_ for help.

Delphi let her trunk fall to the floor in front of the portrait, who stared down at her with an expression resembling an odd mix of confusion and disdain.

"...password?" the woman finally asked.

"Don't know it," Delphi readily admitted. There was no use pretending otherwise. "You wouldn't know how to get a message in to one of the students, would you?"

Now there was suspicion on the painted lady's face. Perhaps she had just noticed that Delphi was a Slytherin. "You'd have to wait for another student."

"Great." Delphi sat down against the wall beside the painting, just far enough away that she wouldn't get hit in the face when it swung open to let someone out. Still she kept her hand on her trunk; accidentally losing it after everything else would be a truly terrible top-off to a truly terrible day.

* * *

It wasn't too long before another student arrived. Unfortunately, it was not one that Delphi had been hoping to see.

"What are you doing?"

Delphi almost groaned at the sound of Percy Weasley's unmistakably snooty voice. "Waiting for my friends."

"You can't loiter about the halls!" Percy said indignantly. "Go back to your common room. It's almost curfew, and I'll have to report you to the teachers if you're not in the dungeons by then."

Delphi peered over his shoulder. There was still no sign of Harry, Ron, or Hermione; she could only assume that they were already inside, and she'd simply missed them. "Do you think I could go in and talk to them?" Delphi tried, already knowing the answer but deciding it was worth a try regardless.

"Slytherins are not allowed in the Gryffindor common room," Percy said sharply. "The teachers have already instructed the prefects to overlook your insistence upon eating at the Gryffindor table, but I would be remiss in my duties if I allowed you into the tower. And I will remind my little brother than neither he nor your other friends are permitted to give out our password."

"Well, he hasn't given it, obviously," Delphi pointed out. "Otherwise, I'd already be in there. Look, I just..." But what was she going to do? Even if she could somehow convince him to let her in, he'd no doubt be watching her like a hawk until she was gone. He might even want to deliver her directly back to the Slytherin common room, and _that_ certainly wouldn't go well.

Gryffindor tower was not going to be her refuge after all. The realization sank into her like a stone slipping beneath the surface of a very dark, still lake.

"Nevermind. I'll head back to my own common room, then."

Percy surveyed her from behind his glasses. "I could give my brother a message, if you would like."

Was that an olive branch? She shook her head. "It's fine. I'll see them in the morning."

Delphi glanced down at her trunk--or at the spot where it sat, invisible. Percy watched her, waiting for her to go. Her wand was stuffed in her sleeve; her other hand was still wrapped around the handle of her trunk, but at least he didn't seemed to have noticed that yet. " _Wingardium leviosa_ ," Delphi muttered as quietly as she was able, her arm doing a funny little movement that more or less resembled the correct wand motion. To her unending relief, she felt the trunk lift anyway, and she dragged it off as subtly as possible, trying to pretend that she didn't see the baffled look on Percy's face as he watched her so oddly walk away.

* * *

Now, Delphi didn't know what to do. She had options, yes, but she didn't have a single one she liked. She could always go to a teacher, or the Head Boy or Girl. If she really wanted to, she could've even snuck down to Hagrid's hut and asked if he might give her a place to sleep for a while. But any of that--the last bit in particular--was simply too humiliating to truly consider. She was neither ready nor willing to admit what had happened, nor was she willing to debase herself by begging for anyone's help. In retrospect, she was almost glad she hadn't been able to get in and see her friends; at least now they wouldn't know that she'd been cast out like a disgraced house-elf. 

More paranoid than ever of what might happen if she got herself caught out after curfew, Delphi Disillusioned herself and then sat down upon her trunk in a corner of the hallway. It crossed her mind very briefly that she did have one potential ally who wasn't locked away in Gryffindor tower. Quirrell was likely to help her... but in what way, she didn't know. Going to him might be no better than going to someone like McGonagall. If all he did was order the other students to permit her back into the common room, then that was about as useless as not doing anything at all. Worse, in fact.

This was, Delphi decided, a problem that she would have to solve entirely on her own. And she _did_ have another idea.

* * *

As Dumbledore had told her over a week ago now, the Mirror of Erised was no longer in the empty classroom where Harry and Delphi had both independently discovered it. Where it was now, Delphi neither knew nor particularly cared; she merely set her trunk down where the Mirror had once been situated and removed its Disillusionment. Then, after rummaging through its contents, she made herself a makeshift bed upon the floor. Wishing she'd had the foresight to nick her bedclothes--or at least a pillow--Delphi carefully arranged the room's furniture in such a way that if Mrs Norris did peek her bulging eyes into the room, she wouldn't be able to see Delphi from the doorway.

The thin pile of robes and clothing upon which Delphi settled for the night was by far the least comfortable place she'd ever slept in her life, but she wasn't willing to put any more effort into it tonight. She felt exhausted, physically and emotionally drained in a way that she didn't think she'd ever quite felt before, and the more her mind dwelt upon those terrible minutes when the rest of her house had finally made it explicit that she was no longer welcome there, the more her bravado and determination waned. In its absence, she felt small and sad and strangely lost until _finally_ she fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Delphi awoke to the strange sensation of a tiny tongue tickling her ear.

She bolted upright, horrified by the prospect of what might be touching her--then recognized Boros.

" _Well, look who it is_ ," she hissed, quite literally, at the little snake. " _I haven't seen you in months! I thought you might've been eaten by an owl by now."_

Snakes didn't have much in the way of facial expressions, but Delphi thought Boros looked rather amused anyway. " _I have kept an eye on you._ "

Delphi rolled hers. " _Oh, I'm sure. You've been, what, spying on me but couldn't muster up a few seconds to say hello?_ "

" _I thought you were hiding your speech from your wizard friends? Or have you told them you have the serpent tongue?_ "

" _Of course I haven't told them,_ " Delphi muttered angrily, standing up and straightening her clothes. She hadn't even bothered changing into her nightdress, and now she rather regretted it; the seams of her robes had left angry-looking indents upon the skin of her forearms.

" _Why?_ "

" _Because there's some things you just don't tell people!_ "

Boros started to slither away. Delphi snatched him quickly; he flicked his tongue at her. " _Where do you think you're going? Where have you been, for that matter? Are you nesting somewhere in the castle?_ " Then, in a smaller, more delicate voice-- " _Do you plan to stay here?_ "

" _Stay?_ " repeated Boros, coiling around her forearm. " _Of course. This is our home._ "

" _No, Boros, it's not. A boarding school isn't home. The manor is home._ " But was it? " _We have to go back there this summer. Or I do, at least. I can't just hide in the school like you do._ "

If snakes could laugh, Boros would have. " _Then what are you doing here? This isn't your nest._ "

" _It is now. Until it's time to go home for the holiday._ "

" _We are home._ "

Delphi shook her head. Her conversations with Boros were so few and far between now, and they never seemed to go anywhere. " _Look, I have to get ready for classes. Do you think perhaps you might visit me again without two or three months passing in between, this time?_ "

He flicked his tongue at her again. " _I like this nest. I will visit you here._ "

" _Good,_ " said Delphi, and she lowered him to the ground. He slithered out of sight almost immediately; he was far too good at disappearing.

She wondered if she really would see him again.

* * *

Delphi counted herself lucky to have already learned the personal hygiene spells necessary to spend a night squatting in an empty classroom without actually _looking_ like she'd done so. If anything, Delphi put more work into her appearance that morning, making sure that her hair was magicked to sleek and gleaming perfection, her teeth were so white and clean that they practically sparkled, and she smelled faintly of pomegranates. She intended to keep her distance from the other Slytherins, yes, but she also very much wanted to make sure that they were going to find her better off for their rejection, not hurt by it.

In the Great Hall at breakfast, Delphi took her seat alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione as if nothing had happened. Hermione beamed at her. "Where were you yesterday? I wanted to tell you about my holiday! Harry and Ron said you ended up going back home after all. What happened?"

Hermione's million-words-per-minute cheeriness made it easier for Delphi to slip into a smile and pretend. "The Malfoys are shockingly connected. Uncle Lucius is a school governor, you know. And since Aunt Cissy wanted me home... well, I didn't have much choice in the end. But what about you? How was your holiday?"

"Wonderful! I hadn't realized how much I'd missed my parents until I saw them on the platform. It was good to be home for the hols. But I'm pleased to be back. The second term is going to be much more serious than the first, I think. This is when we'll really need to buckle down and study. It won't be long before exams are here!"

Ron groaned. "It's the first day of term, Hermione! How can you be thinking about exams already?"

Bright-eyed and bushy-haired, Hermione ignored him. "But what about this mirror you found? Harry said--"

"You didn't miss much," Delphi said, and the words came out a bit more harshly than she'd intended. Hermione looked startled. "You're better off not having looked into it, I promise."

"But it seems so fascinating, a looking glass that knows your secret wishes! Magic is so _amazing_!"

"And dangerous," Delphi muttered, picking up her fork and stabbing it into a bit of scrambled egg. She didn't have much of an appetite, but feigning normalcy meant feigning an appetite. She ate in silence as the other three chattered on; none of them seemed to notice that she wasn't quite herself.

* * *

Delphi could not wait until Friday evening to meet with Quirrell. Snape had stolen that time from her, and Quirrell needed to know about it before she stood him up.

That evening, after dinner, Delphi went straight to Quirrell's office to give him the bad news. She wondered if this would be the conversation when he finally decided that she was more trouble than she was worth.

When the door opened to reveal the young professor's cautious face, Delphi pushed past him into the room. Disillusioned as she was, he couldn't see her, but she had no doubt that he knew exactly who was calling; she'd knocked on his office door with three sharp raps, exactly as he'd instructed. She lifted her invisibility as soon as the door was securely shut.

"What's wrong?" Quirrell asked her immediately. "No, I can guess. Severus has done something?"

Delphi tried for a sheepish smile, but it turned into grimace. "He caught me coming back to the common room after curfew. I have detention on Friday evening."

"Well, that's--"

"For the rest of term."

 _That_ seemed to surprise him. "What on earth did you say to him?"

Delphi opened her mouth. Closed it dumbly. "Nothing!" she protested, feeling foolish. "He must know about... us." It sounded strange when put that way. Delphi felt a sudden surge of discomfort, as if she'd just been caught doing something embarrassing. "He seemed to think I was out after curfew because I was meeting someone. I think he meant you. But I didn't tell him anything; I really didn't. What are we going to do?"

Quirrell stared at her for a moment, then smiled faintly. "We can easily switch to a different night. He can't give you detention every day, not without bringing suspicion down on himself." Quirrell reached out and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He has no right to target you. We're not actually doing anything wrong here, you realize. Extracurricular lessons are atypical, particularly for a student of your age, but I'm not breaking rules by offering you my tutelage, nor are you breaking any rules by accepting it. Accept the punishment for being out after curfew, and try not to give him any more reason to discipline you. I doubt he really intends to keep you for the entire term; he only wants to intimidate you. He's that type of man, Severus."

Delphi stared up at Quirrell for a moment, her mind catching on a question and refusing to move on. "Professor, if you don't mind my asking... I know why Professor Snape dislikes me, but why does he seem to dislike you?"

Quirrell's smile turned sardonic. "If I'm being perfectly honest, Delphini, I don't think Severus Snape actually _likes_ a single living soul. Now, I suggest you get back to your common room before you get yourself into trouble once again. And do make sure to attend your detentions; make sure not to give Snape any more excuses to torment you. You may even wish to ingratiate yourself to Professor McGonagall while you're at it; she already has something of a rivalry with him, and she champions fairness to a fault. She would be a helpful ally to have in your corner."

While Delphi didn't doubt the advice itself, she rather suspected McGonagall would prove more professional than either Snape or Quirrel had thus far. Delphi couldn't see her becoming either ally or adversary to a student, no matter what kind of rivalries might exist within the staff.

"Thank you, professor," said Delphi. She stood to leave. A part of her was disappointed that she wouldn't get to meet with Quirrel for a proper lesson this week; the rest of her was merely pleased that Snape hadn't managed to ruin everything after all. She didn't doubt that he'd keep trying, though. The man was becoming a definite problem.

* * *

Delphi returned unceremoniously to her makeshift "nest", as Boros had put it, in the room formerly occupied by the Mirror of Erised with a borrowed library book titled _Domestic Transfiguration_ tucked in the crook of her arm. Madam Pince had given her a rather piercing glare when she'd signed it out at the desk, but even if it was unusual for a first year to want to read such a thing, there wasn't anything objectionable enough about it to warrant refusing her. And so Delphi settled into her meager attempt at a bed and began reading about how she might be able to make herself a better one.

* * *

In the morning, Delphi awoke snuggled inside a cozy little sleeping bag that had very recently been a broken desk. It wasn't quite what she'd been hoping for, but it served her well enough.

At breakfast, she found a very eager Hermione chattering away at Ron and Harry. The former boy stared down at his meal with his chin in his hand, one elbow propped up on the table as he pushed scrambled eggs around his plate; he yawned openly and gave Delphi a long-suffering glance as she sat down at the table. Beside him, Harry at least seemed to be trying to care about whatever Hermione had to say.

"Delphi! You won't believe what I've been reading!" Hermione's enthusiasm turned to Delphi without warning, and before Delphi could prepare herself for the possibility, she found the cover of a book had filled her entire field of vision. She took the thing in hand, baffled, and pulled it back to a distance at which she could actually read it.

" _Break with a Banshee_?" Delphi read. "By Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Though Delphi had never heard of either the book or its author, she had to admit that it looked fascinating. The leather-bound cover was a beautiful forest green color, at the center of which was a lovely painting in shades of green and black. In it, a wizard stood against a tall, impossibly beautiful woman whose very image conjured a warning of the death and danger that would undeniably follow in her wake; his wand lit with the light of whatever spell he was casting against her, but the expression on her face was one of perfect calm and utter confidence. Delphi was oddly reminded of her Erised reflection.

Hermione snatched the book back, a radiant look of joy on her face. "Haven't you heard of him?" Delphi shook her head and shrugged. Across the table, Ron sighed heavily and stabbed a sausage with his fork. "Gilderoy Lockhart is _amazing_! I've been dying to get my hands on one of his books, but the library here doesn't have any of them, can you believe it?, and this copy had just arrived this morning, and I can't wait to read it, and--"

"Hermione?" Delphi interrupted. "Don't forget to breathe."

But Hermione just shook her head and clutched the book tighter. "I've been reading it, just a few chapters this morning before breakfast, and oh, it's absolutely wonderful already! He's everything everyone's said he was and more, I can't believe all the things he's done, and he's not even thirty, can you believe it?"

"Well, what's he done?"

Ron groaned. Hermione cast him a withering glare. "It's all in his books. They're all memoirs, and there's already eight of them, and I'm sure there'll be plenty more to come, he's so amazingly talented and brave! Let's see, there's this one--that's _Break with a Banshee_ \--then there's, _Gadding with Ghouls_ , _Holidays with Hags_ , _Travels with Trolls_ , _Voyages with Vampires_ , <>Wanderings with Werewolves, _Year with the Yeti_ , and _Marauding with Monsters_. And his new book, _Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests_ , comes out in a few weeks, and I can't wait to get my hands on that one. Stories of his conquests are one thing, but practical advice is something else entirely! And this summer..." Hermione hardly seemed able to get the words out now. "This summer, he's putting out an actual autobiography all about how he became such an amazing wizard. He went to Hogwarts, you know. I think he was a Ravenclaw, which I must admit surprises me a bit; I would've thought someone as brave as he is would've been a Gryffindor, but I suppose Ravenclaw makes sense, too, given how intelligent he must be. It must just be that he values intelligence over bravery, or perhaps he doesn't even consider himself particularly brave, or perhaps--"

"You're forgetting to breathe again," Delphi pointed out, surveying the book with a lifted brow. "You're really this excited about a book you got, what, an hour ago?"

"You'd understand if you were reading it," Hermione said, though she did have the vague hint of a blush about her. "I'll let you read it after I'm through, yes? I'm going to order the next one right away; I want to read it as soon as I'm done!"

"Oh. Well, alright," Delphi said. Had she agreed to that? She didn't think she had. Still, books were nothing to complain about. Speaking of which... "And I read the books you got me for Christmas, by the way. They were a bit... bizarre, but very interesting. Is that what Muggles think of magic?"

"Well, no, not exactly. Those were more like a fairytale, the kind of stories that one gives children. Don't wizards give their children fanciful stories to read?"

Harry's expression shifted very suddenly; polite interest seemed to spark into genuine curiosity. Ron, for his part, looked as nonchalant as ever. "Sure," he said before Delphi had the chance. " _The Tale of the Three Brothers_ , _The Warlock's Hairy Heart_ , all that sort of thing. Impossible magic, meeting death, cutting your heart out and locking it up somewhere. Metaphors, you know."

Hermione had an odd expression on her face, as if she hadn't realized Ron was capable of even that level of literary understanding. "Yes, Muggle children's stories are the same way. They don't realize that magic is real, and so of course their stories don't follow the same rules, but it's all a matter of metaphor and imagination. Cinderella's pumpkin carriage, the little mermaid's transformation, Sleeping Beauty's curse... it's all magic the way Muggles imagine it would be."

Delphi had lost the specifics somewhere in there (What on earth was a cinderella, anyway?), but gist was fascinating. "You know," Delphi said as the image of her grandmother's hateful condemnation flitted across her mind, "I think I might take up Muggle studies. It's an elective in third year; Quirrell used to teach it." And she had certainly thought him lesser for it when she'd first met him, hadn't she? She'd thought him a doddering fool, back on that first day in Diagon Alley, and she could still hear the pure disdain in Lucius' voice as he had said the very words _Muggle studies_. But now? Now, Delphi knew that there was so much more to Quirrell than garlic and stuttering, that Muggleborns like Hermione Granger existed in the world, and that the Malfoys were ready to abandon her if she so much as dared to question their ways. "I think it might be very interesting."

Ron stared at her blankly. Harry didn't look particularly impressed, either, but Hermione donned perhaps the brightest smile that Delphi had seen her wear yet, and Delphi found herself seized in a very tight embrace. "That's a wonderful idea, Delphi! I've been thinking just the same. I think all wizards should do that, really; I've no idea why Dumbledore only offers the class as an elective. It should be a required part of the curriculum, I think; it would go a long way toward spreading proper tolerance in the wizarding world."

"Fostering resentment, more like," Ron grumbled. He set down his fork and pushed his plate aside. "And what would you get out of Muggle studies, Hermione? You're Muggleborn! Besides, who in their right mind is thinking about third year electives already? We're only halfway through first year!"

"And we'll be taking our exams before you know it, Ron Weasley!" Hermione scolded, and Delphi laughed softly as the two of them began to bicker.

Not for the first time lately, she wondered what her life might've been like if she'd simply been sorted into Gryffindor right from the start.

If nothing else, she'd at least have a better place to sleep.

* * *

On Friday evening, when Delphi normally would've Disillusioned herself, left the Slytherin common room, and headed toward Professor Quirrell's office, she instead found herself doing absolutely none of those things. Instead, she dumped her bag in her rapidly improving bedroom, which now had a lovely faux-antique wardrobe and twin-sized bed rather than a lonely little sleeping bag, and headed, quite visibly, down to the dungeons for detention with Professor Snape.

Detentions with him in the past hadn't been the most pleasant affairs, but they hadn't been wholly objectionable, either. She'd at least come out of them feeling a bit better of for the experience; if nothing else, she always felt as if she'd learned something--either something about magic in general, or about Snape himself. But Snape remained a particularly intimidating person; she wasn't frightened of him, per se, but she still couldn't get it out of her mind that he might be even more sinister than he seemed. Harry's theories about his motives aside, Delphi wasn't still entirely sure whether the man just wanted to give off the impression of hating everyone enough to slaughter them all at a moment's notice... or whether he was genuinely unhinged and might snap if pushed too far. (She didn't _think_ Dumbledore would employ the latter type of person, but then again, she also hadn't assumed that any reasonable headmaster would put a cerberus in a school.)

If she really did have to spend every Friday evening for the rest of term with him, of course, she had no doubts that she'd find out.

Delphi rapped on his door and braced herself for the momentary horror of the wood swinging open to reveal that gaunt, sallow face glaring down at her. When it came a heartbeat later, she managed not to flinch.

Snape ordered her into the room with a silent point of his finger, and Delphi sat down at the desk nearest his own. He followed close behind, looming over her like a black cloud threatening rain, and she folded her hands together in her lap, waiting for the bomb to drop.

It didn't. As the seconds ticked into a full minute, then two, Delphi held her tongue until finally she simple couldn't take it anymore. "What am I supposed to be doing, professor?"

"That, Lestrange, is a very good question. One that I strongly suspect you will find it impossible to answer." His lips quirked very slightly, giving his mouth the faintest hint of a vicious smirk. "If you could figure out what you were supposed to be doing, after all, you would not be here in this detention."

Delphi stared. "Er... So is that the detention, then? I just sit here and... think about what I've done?"

"No, Miss Lestrange, I will not be taking any such half-measures with you. The task I set to you each week will entirely depend upon your ability to learn from your mistakes. For now, I ask only a simple question: where have you been going in the evenings when you have been out of the Slytherin common room after curfew?"

Well, she certainly wasn't going to answer that. "Here and there."

If Severus Snape had ever been impressed by anything, it was not this. "You don't plan on making this easy for yourself, I see. Very well. You will spend the next two hours of your life removing the inner organs of those frogs--" Snape jabbed a finger toward not a jar but a barrel of dead amphibians. "--and sorting them into pickling jars. You will do this without magic. You may put your wand away."

He said this, Delphi knew, only to rub it in that he could, for all intents and purposes, take her magic from her just like that. (She hadn't, after all, even taken her wand out since entering the room.) Just by forbidding it, he put it very effectively beyond her reach--if she didn't want to make things worse for herself, at least.

Resolving herself to submission and hating the very thought of it, Delphi was not subtle about the way she rose from her chair, its wooden legs scraping heavily across the stone dungeon floor, and she walked to the putrid barrel, seized it, and dragged it back to her workstation. The sound it made was even more ear-splitting than that of the chair, but Snape wasn't one to give her even this petty victory. Though she was sure that a student from any other house would have seen at least one point taken for that, Delphi instead found that Snape had already gone back to his desk and the piles of papers there. He didn't even seem to be paying attention to her; his black gaze was affixed upon some bit of homework or another, and Delphi watched him mark a large D on the top of the parchment with a distinct look of self-satisfaction before she got to work in her own disgusting task.

* * *

It went on like that for weeks. Delphi spent Friday evenings in detention with Snape, refusing to submit to his interrogation and so dealing with all sorts of nasty punishments instead, from pickling the eyes of newts that she herself had to carefully carve out of their sockets to hand-plucking the feathers from the limp and cooling corpses of ravens and crows. Her lessons with Quirrell moved to Tuesdays, and if Snape knew about this simple workaround, he made no obvious efforts to prevent it.

As January waned and February began, Quirrell's lessons grew more advanced. They had begun slowly to move away from the school's curriculum, and Delphi no longer felt that she was simply getting a sneak preview of a second year student's coursework. He had started again to give her books, so many that she had no idea where he was getting them from or how he could afford them, but she didn't dare pester him with those kinds of questions. She merely took it all with polite thanks and then devoured the knowledge the pages offered; she was reading about magical creatures, obscure potions, spells lost to human memory, ancient witches like Circe and Hecate, and also modern history and magical wars. During the lessons themselves, she was practicing charms, curses, and transfiguration spells, and every time Quirrell set her to the task of something new, she seemed to get it right just a bit faster than she'd managed to conquer the last spell. In short, Delphi was getting better, and she was doing it very quickly, and if she found anything strange about the degree to which her progression seemed to satisfy Quirrell, she chose not to dwell on it.

Valentine's Day came and went, and Delphi did not fail to notice how silly some of the older students seemed to become in the days leading up to the holiday. For a good week, it became a familiar sight in the halls to see some red-faced boy or girl stammering out either an invitation or a rejection of one, and Delphi went quite out of her way to stay clear of these particular scenes. Narcissa had always vaguely warned her about the perils of housing so many adolescents together in a castle, and though Delphi still didn't _quite_ understand what her aunt had been getting at, Aunt Cissy had very clearly been right.

It was several days after the holiday that Delphi finally noticed that Harry had once again begun to pale, with dark rings reappearing beneath his eyes. Delphi's first thought was that Harry must have somehow discovered the new hiding place where Dumbledore had left the Mirror of Erised, but the more she watched him, the more it became clear to her that this wasn't quite the same as his earlier obsession. This was stress and exhaustion and worry, and Delphi was just working up the nerve to broach the subject with him when Ron, quite by happenstance, gave her the news that they had all forgotten to tell her: Snape would be the referee for the next Quidditch match.

"Snape?" she repeated dumbly, hardly believing her ears. "Snape and Quidditch?" The more she tried to wrap her mind around the concept, the more it seemed to elude her; for whatever reason, she simply couldn't conjure up the image of black-clad, gangly, hook-nosed Snape flying around in the air on a broom. 

"Apparently so," said Hermione. "I really don't know why they're letting him get away with it. What is Madam Hooch's job, if not to referee the games? We're not even taking flying lessons anymore!"

It was true; their lessons had ceased as fall turned into winter. No matter how much wizards loved their sports, the Hogwarts curriculum had not offered much more instruction than, "Here's how you get in the air, and please do remember not to fall off your broom." If students wanted to practice flying beyond the basics, that was apparently something they would have to do on their own time.

Regardless, Delphi was finding this information more difficult to swallow than anything she'd read in one of Quirrell's books. "But _Snape_? On a _broom_? Does that not sound entirely surreal to anyone else?"

"What, you think he doesn't know how to fly?" Ron asked.

"I think I would've been more comfortable hearing you tell me that he can turn into a bat than that he intends to mount a broomstick and referee a game. Has anyone even double-checked to make sure he knows what games _are_?" She certainly couldn't imagine him _playing_ one, not even as a child. (And there was a harrowing thought: Snape as a schoolboy. Delphi shuddered.)

Harry's supper plate sat untouched before him, though he held his empty fork in his hand, as if trying to build up the willpower to eat anything at all. He tried to smile at her, but he didn't quite manage it; though he was clearly trying to put on a brave face, his efforts fell far short, even without taking his telltale raccoon's eyes into consideration. "I dunno what it is he's planning," he told her. "But I'm not going to let him stop me." His voice dropped into a murmur, trying to keep the other students at the table from hearing him as he went on, "I think he's trying to scare me. I keep running into him wherever I go; I think he might be following me. And I get this terrible feeling sometimes..."

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks of concern. "What, Harry?" Delphi pressed.

"It's not possible to read someone else's mind with magic, is it?" murmured Harry. "I swear, sometimes I just think..."

"Read someone's mind?" Delphi repeated. "You mean, like, see into their memories? And know what they're thinking?" Harry nodded warily. "You're talking about legilimency." She'd read about it in one of Quirrell's books, though she wasn't willing to admit to _that_. At the way Harry suddenly went even paler, however, she pressed on, "It's not a common ability. Few wizards can manage it, and I'm fairly sure it requires direct eye contact. I highly doubt Snape can do it, but even if he can, Harry, there's an easy way to avoid it. Just don't look in his eyes, and he shouldn't be able to get a thing from you. Not without making it obvious, at least, that he's trying to brute-force his way into your psyche, and I'd like to think he'd get fired for that. At the very least, the rest of us would notice. There wouldn't be any doubt of what he'd done."

Oddly, Harry looked as if a massive weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. "So he's not reading my mind, then?"

"Probably not. It's possible, but I doubt it. And like I said, if you're really so worried about it, you can just avoid eye contact." Delphi surveyed him for a moment; already, he looked so much happier. The dark circles weren't gone, but his smile suddenly seemed much more authentic. "Is Snape really getting to you so badly?" she asked. "I know he's been terrible to you in class, but he's never _not_ terrible." But even as she made the point, she was talking herself out of it, and Ron almost immediately put voice to her darkest thoughts.

"He's extra terrible to Harry," Ron said. "This Quidditch thing proves it. It just doesn't make any sense otherwise. Snape's got it in for him, one way or another. Best case scenario, he just wants to make sure we lose the Quidditch Cup. Worst case, he wants to make sure we lose Harry. He _did/i > jinx him last time, after all."_

Harry's smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"That's not going to happen again," Delphi said fiercely. "No matter what," she promised, "we're going to keep you safe."

* * *

The moment of truth arrived only a few days later. The match took place in the afternoon, and Delphi joined both Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor section of the stands to watch. But they needn't have bothered. The most eventful thing that happened during the match had nothing to do with either Snape or even the game taking place high in the air above where the trio stood alongside Neville Longbottom. Because as Delphi struggled to cope with the reality that, yes, that _was_ Severus Snape up there in the air, flying around like he _belonged_ in the midst of a schoolyard game with an expression of simmering hate on his sallow face, Draco and his cronies decided that they had nothing better to do than antagonize. With her eyes fixed upon the high-up, crimson dot that was Harry on his broom as he searched for the snitch, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle lobbied insults at whoever they thought might rise to the bait. And as Harry fell into a dive after the little golden ball--just a few minutes into the game!--Ron and Neville both let themselves get carried away. Two Gryffindor boys, one of whom was a considerable coward, against three Slytherin boys, only one of whom was a coward rather than an cheap imitation of a mountain troll, was not a fair fight, but it was a shocking one. Delphi struggled to ignore it as she watched Harry seize the snitch at the last possible moment and single-handledly put Gryffindor in the lead for the Cup. Hermione cheered; Delphi let out a huge sigh of relief; and all five boys just kept trying to beat each other bloody.

When Hermione finally decided to intervene, Delphi helped separate the brawlers, but she could still hardly take her eyes off of Harry, especially not when Dumbledore approached him in obvious congratulations and leaned down to whisper something in his ear.

* * *

After the match, Delphi, Ron, and Hermione waited for Harry to return from the locker room. The rest of the triumphant Gryffindors had dispersed, content to congratulate their seeker later in the comfort of their common room. Knowing very well that Delphi couldn't follow them there, Ron and Hermione contented with waiting for Harry in a corridor that they knew he would have to take on his way back to the tower, and when they finally saw him coming up to meet them, he wore a surprisingly tense expression on his face for someone whose biggest worries should've just been soothed.

Hermione positively squeaked with excitement as she blurted, "Harry, where have you--" but Delphi interrupted her with a much less enthusiastic question.

"What's wrong?"

"Let's find an empty room," Harry said breathlessly. Delphi didn't think Quidditch couldn't possibly have left him so exhausted; he must have sprinted here from the broomshed. "You wait 'til you hear this..."

He ushered them into the nearest vacant classroom, checked as carefully as possible for Peeves (which involved yelling insults at the poltergeist and simply hoping that he wasn't around to hear them), and barely had the door shut before he was launching into his latest tale. "We were right," he said, "it _is_ the Philosopher's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy--and he said somethign about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus'. I reckon there are other things guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy--loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through--"

Hermione's eyes had gone wide in utter horror. "So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?"

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.

Delphi stared at Harry. "Where did this happen? _When_ did this happen?"

"Just now," he said. "In the forbidden forest. I saw Snape running out there, and I followed him on my broomstick. And I'm glad I did!"

"Well," Delphi pressed, "what exactly did they both say? Precisely, I mean? Do you remember?"

"Not precisely," said Harry, looking bewildered. "Quirrell asked why they were meeting in the forest, and Snape said something about wanting to keep the conversation private from the students. I think that's when he mentioned the Stone by name; he said students weren't supposed to know. And he asked Quirrell if he knew how to get past Fluffy, like I said, and he said something about Quirrell not wanting him as an enemy, I think? And Snape told him they'd have another meeting soon, and that Quirrell had better figure out 'where his loyalties lie'. _That_ bit's precise."

Delphi's mind raced to reconcile this story of her two teachers with what she knew of them both. Quirrell, as far as she could tell, was not _really_ frightened of Snape. But perhaps he didn't want anyone--especially Snape--except for Delphi--to know. "Was Quirrell stuttering?"

It took Delphi a moment to realize that all three of her friends were staring at her with varying degrees of confusion. Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah?"

Delphi almost laughed, but she didn't want to give away Quirrell's secrets--and she couldn't quite explain to herself _why_. But she knew something about him that the others didn't; if Quirrell had been stuttering in his conversation with Snape, then had been acting. The stuttering, frightened Quirrell that the world knew was a facade, and if Quirrell hadn't dropped the act when Snape had begun threatening him, then it could only mean one thing: Quirrell was _not_ threatened.

"I don't think we have to worry too much," Delphi said evenly. "If Dumbledore is willing to put a cerberus in a school to protect that Stone, then who knows what else he might've had the guts to bring in? I guarantee there's more between Snape and his victory than just the dog and Quirrell. Dumbledore's not going to make it easy for whoever's trying to steal that thing. I guarantee that _he_ probably put a few spells in, too. So even if Quirrell folds and gives everything up to Snape, I'm sure everything will be fine. No one can best Dumbledore. Not now that the Dark Lord's gone."

Harry affixed her with a surprisingly dark look, one that sent an eerie chill down Delphi's spine. "And if Snape is working directly with Voldemort?"

Delphi felt like she'd been doused with ice water as the possibilities suddenly washed over her. Snape could be working with Voldemort; Snape could Imperiused by Voldemort; Snape could even be _impersonated_ by Voldemort. There would be no way for her and Harry and their friends to know; would Dumbledore even be able to figure it out?

Delphi swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat and tried her damnedest to steel her nerves. "In that case, we have bigger problems than the Philosopher's Stone."

* * *

That night when Delphi dreamed, the three-headed cerberus at the gates of the Underworld had bare skulls instead of faces and snakes instead of tongues, and deadly green lightning flashed in the skies around them, turning everything it touched to gold.


	11. Persistence and Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not: nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not: the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent." -Calvin Coolidge
> 
>  _In this chapter..._  
> 
> Delphi gets a bright idea, Snape hints at more than one possible conspiracy, classical mythology provides some clues, and Hagrid adopts a pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some language used in this chapters' recounting of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth is adapted from the relevant Wikipedia article, which can be found [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orpheus_and_Eurydice); and, as usual, some phrasing and especially dialogue is adapted from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_. (Side note: whyyy is writing Hagrid's dialogue so difficult for me???)
> 
> Also, the outline for this chapter proved to be _extraordinarily_ overstuffed; as such, this chapter is being split in two, and the expected chapter count is being bumped back up from 14 to 15. I _could_ have dumped a 20k chapter in your lap, but even _I_ think a novella-length chapter is overkill.

In the weeks after the Quidditch match, Delphi was horrified to realize that she might've been wrong. As the year stretched on and Delphi's days became a blur of classes, homework, Snape's detentions, Quirrell's extra lessons, and Hermione's insistence that all four of them begin studying for their end-of-term exams, Delphi slowly started to notice a change in Quirrell. Much like Harry over Christmas and in the days leading up to Snape's brief career as a Quidditch referee, Quirrell grew pale and then thin and then outright gaunt, and Delphi began to get the horrible suspicion that he might be wasting away before her very eyes. She didn't know whether it was Snape or stress or some disease he was keeping secret from her. All she knew was that she had genuinely begun to grow concerned.

But she didn't bring it up. She didn't know how, really; in all the time they had talked, they had never once broached a subject that was personal to Quirrell. They talked about her, and they talked about magic, but they never talked about _him_. It seemed inappropriate somehow, she supposed, to ask after her teacher's health; she couldn't help thinking that they were already balanced precariously on the precipice between a teacher-student dynamic and... well, whatever they would become if he suddenly felt welcome to unload his personal issues on her.

Still, she hated the thought that something might be happening to him, right there in front of her, and that while she might be able to see it, she didn't get to _know_.

Not that she spent all her time obsessing over Quirrell, of course. No, Delphi's attention was very split these days, and she never knew what to do with her free time. Hermione wanted to hang out in the library; Harry wanted to practice flying or else make battle plans about protecting the Philosopher's Stone; Ron wanted to rant about Snape and Draco and Quidditch, and he even expressed the occasional bit of interest in teaching Delphi to play chess; teachers piled on mountains of homework, which always felt like busywork at best; Hermione kept growing increasingly obsessed with studying, as if exams weren't still an eternity away; and Quirrell's lessons always left her with new spells to practice, new books to read, new potions to brew, new possibilities to ponder.

The books, in fact, had grown so numerous now that Delphi hardly knew what to do with them; they had entirely taken over her space. As February turned into March and then April, her private little bedroom in the abandoned classroom that she'd claimed remained undiscovered. She had found a very convenient spell in one of Quirrell's books that she seemed to have pulled off properly, more or less; supposedly, her casting it on the door to the classroom would essentially make any onlooker's eyes simply pass right over the existence of the door, their brain refusing to register its presence as if it weren't even there at all. And if it hadn't worked, then she'd certainly been very lucky so far; neither Filch nor Mrs Norris had managed to find her, and even Dumbledore, who had so recently been storing an incredibly dangerous mirror in the room, had not (to Delphi's knowledge) returned to find the black-and-emerald-decked bedroom-slash-library that the place had become.

And it _did_ look like a library. Piles of books towered about the room, stacked high in every nook and cranny. They threatened to topple over in many places, and in a few spots actually had; Delphi was drowning in books, most of which she'd already read but some of which she was still working through, and whenever she tried to return one to Quirrell, he only smiled and assured her that it was a gift. A part of her had begun to wonder if it might actually be some kind of challenge, giving her all of this; she had, after all, let Snape catch her with a book in the past. Now, she was successfully hiding almost a hundred.

Still, as delightful as this sudden access to seemingly unending knowledge was, Delphi was beginning to realize that books could be as cumbersome as they could be educational. They posed the same problem to her as did her free time: she wanted access to everything at once, and yet whenever she wanted to double-back and reread a passage of a book she'd already finished, she had to begin the process of searching her stacks for it, combing the spines for the right title and then searching for the proper page. For the longest time, it was _maddening_... and then, it became an idea.

"Where do spells come from?" Delphi asked one Tuesday evening, breaking the silence that had fallen in Quirrell's classroom while he graded papers and oversaw her practice of a mirror charm that had the questionably practical effect of turning any flat surface into a pane of reflective glass.

Quirrell looked up from some fifth year's homework. "What?"

"Spells," she repeated. "Where do they come from? Why are they so reminiscent of Latin? Do they _need_ to be in quasi-Latin? Can anyone invent them, or are they discovered? Could--?"

Quirrell flicked his wand, and yet another book shot from his ever-changing bookshelf to fall open on the desk in front of her. "You're not ready for that yet, you know," he told her. "Spells are invented, yes, but that can be dangerous work. As I'm sure your other teachers will have warned you, a single wrong syllable for even the most well-established spell can have devastating, even lethal consequences. The only wizards who should meddle with experimental magic are those who truly have the power to deal with the consequences... or those who simply have nothing left to lose."

Delphi glanced down at the book he'd just given her. _The Theory of Magic: How Spells Are Born_. "So this book...?"

"Will tell you how one can go about inventing new magic. It will also tell you that most wizards are entirely incapable of doing so, and that almost all efforts to create new spells result in either the disappointment, injury, or even death of the mediocre wizard foolish enough to try." His gaze met hers, far too intense, and Delphi found that she couldn't look away as he added, " _You_ will not try. Not now. Not yet."

Delphi then threw on a nervous smile, trying to convince herself that there was nothing terribly unnerving about the way he was looking at her. "Not yet?"

"Not until I can be sure you won't get yourself killed."

Delphi looked down at her new book-- _anywhere_ but his eyes. She flipped it to the first page, sank down into her chair, and began to read.

Quirrell kept watching her, but he said nothing more.

* * *

On Wednesday evening, Delphi quickly finished her homework and plowed her way through the rest of _Theory of Magic_ , learning all about how to do what Quirrell had warned her not to.

That Friday, Delphi reluctantly set aside her new mission in favor of her last detention with Snape before the Easter holiday began. She had the vaguest hope in mind that perhaps he would allow her a reprieve from detention during the holiday, but she did rather doubt it. She quite suspected that he truly intended to keep her coming back every Friday evening until the very last week of term.

So down Delphi went into the dungeons, where she soon found herself once again sitting at the table nearest Snape's desk. He towered over her, glaring down as he prepared himself to ask the exact same question that he always did.

Since the term had started, Snape's detentions always began the same way. "I need not remind you, Miss Lestrange, of the reason you are still attending these detentions. I will simply ask you again, in the obviously vain hope that you might come to your senses and realize a confession is your best course of action." She had endured over a dozen Friday evening detentions now, and never once had the question changed. "Where have you been going in the evenings when you have been out of the Slytherin common room after curfew?"

Whatever he expected the truth was, she could only assume it must be awful, if he was still trying to get her to confess to it so long afterward. And the more Delphi refused to admit it, the more she was sure that he felt justified in this interrogation, because if it _wasn't_ awful, then surely she would've admitted it by now. But she wasn't about to walk this back; at this point, keeping her mouth shut was as much a matter of pride as secrecy.

And Merlin, did it piss Snape off. All through January, February, March, and now into April, he had growing more visibly frustrated with her. It wasn't that his punishments weren't working, not precisely; it was just that Delphi had more spite in her than she had sense. No matter how many animals he made her dissect, no matter how many cauldrons he made her clean, no matter how many essays he made her grade or lines he made her write, she wasn't intimidated. He wasn't going to expel her for refusing to answer this question, and it wasn't like he could just pour veritaserum down her throat to get the truth. She didn't have to give him what he wanted, so long as she was willing to take the punishment. And so far, she was.

Delphi answered him with the same blank expression that she'd been practicing for months now. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, sir."

Delphi had noticed a few weeks ago that there was a vein in Snape's temple that twitched when he was trying very hard to suppress his anger. Right now, it was pulsing. His eyes narrowed into slits, and if he really had been the vampire that she'd heard some Hufflepuffs nervously whispering rumors about, Delphi was sure he would've been moments from trying to rip out her neck.

Honestly, she was a bit satisfied with how well she'd gotten under his skin--and with how long she'd managed to stay there without getting into any deeper trouble. A few more weeks like this, and it'd probably start feeling more like _he_ was in detention with _her_.

At the moment, though, she was as aware as ever that she remained at his mercy... and that she couldn't be sure how much of a threat he really was. She'd only seen the bad teacher side of him so far, after all; there might very well also be a Death Eater side to him that she wouldn't want to face.

"In that case," Snape went on, his voice a very good approximation of a serpentine hiss, "perhaps I am asking the wrong question." _That's new,_ Delphi thought. _And ominous._ "How, then, have you persuaded your fellow Slytherins to lie for you?"

Delphi had nothing to say to that. When had anyone ever lied _for_ her? "I'm sorry?"

Snape's glare darkened; Delphi rubbed anxiously at her neck. "After the Christmas holiday, all of my inquiries into your behavior in the Slytherin common room and the girls' dormitory have been met with insistence that you are perfectly well behaved, that you are pleasant and polite to your dormmates, and that you have never again so much as been suspected of sneaking out after curfew."

Delphi only just kept her jaw from dropping. They were lying, it seemed, but not _for_ her; whoever had answered Snape's questions didn't want him to know that she'd been run out like a stray dog. It was an intriguing notion, this near-explicit confirmation that they knew even Snape would think they'd gone too far. And yet Delphi couldn't pretend she wasn't grateful for it; her living arrangements had considerably improved now that she didn't have to bunk with a bunch of near-strangers who either hated or ignored her, so she certainly wasn't about to let Snape figure it out.

"Which part is the lie, professor?"

Snape's fingers twitched, very slightly. Delphi wondered which of the pickling jars he had briefly considered throwing at her.

"What I do not understand," Snape went on, ignoring her _perfectly innocent_ question, "is how you managed to convince your housemates, most of whom I am certain despise you--" She flinched. "--to cover up for your misbehavior. Mr. Selwyn in particular--"

"Who?"

"--assures me that you have been a model student. As a prefect, I trust him to find the proper balance between looking after the younger students and honestly reporting any problems to me."

 _The prefect._ "Yeah," Delphi said, perhaps a bit too darkly, "he's _great_ at looking after the students. Doing such a wonderful job." Snape stared at her, and she back at him. _Wait..._ In her mind's eye, a flash of memory: her every possession torn from her trunk and nightstand and tossed across her four-poster bed. Quirrell hadn't thought that Snape had done it. "If you think he's lying to you, sir, why don't you just... come and check on me yourself?"

Snape raised a jet black brow. "Do you think I have nothing better to do with my time than babysit you?" Delphi felt a growing certainty building inside her. She'd only once seen Snape in the common room, hadn't she? "In any case, the common room is the domain of the students. I do not frivolously _come in and check_ to see whether or not you are in your beds. Some of us, Miss Lestrange, pay at least some mind to where we do and do not belong."

Delphi almost wanted to laugh. Quirrell had said Snape couldn't have tossed her room because he wouldn't have been so obvious about it; Snape's argument, though, seemed to be that he was too respectful to have done it. But if he was telling the truth, and he really didn't know what was behind the prefect's lies... was it the prefect who had gone through her things like a malicious tornado? It certainly seemed plausible. Probable, even.

Either way, if Snape really was as clueless about what she'd been doing as he seemed, Delphi definitely wanted to keep it that way. "Well, I'm sorry, professor, but they're not lying. I've been doing my best to obey you; I really have been trying to be--er--well-behaved and pleasant and polite and all that."

Snape looked entirely unmoved. "Yes, I find that _particularly_ believable coming from the one student in the entire school who cannot even manage to eat at the proper table. If the Headmaster wasn't so indulgent..." He shook his head. "You are lying to me as much as they are, girl; you do not have me fooled. You think you're very clever--Potter's little friend--such a _good_ little student--but you'll find I'm not so easily taken in. I have dealt with more students in my years of teaching than you can wrap your mind around, and children are all different shades of the exact same thing. You think your eleven years in the world have taught you everything there is to know about life, you think it's _fun_ to challenge my authority, and you think that because you are young, you are also invulnerable. Allow me to break the news, then--you are _not_. Hogwarts is dangerous, and the rules against wandering the school as you please were created with your safety in mind. A little know-it-all like you should be smart enough to realize just how much trouble you could get into if you aren't more careful."

It was insults upon insults, each of them a new chink in her resolution to blankness. -- _cannot even manage_ \-- _think you're clever_ \-- _Potter's little friend_ \-- _a little know-it-all like you_ \-- _should be smart_ \--

Was this actual hatred? Did she _hate_ him? If there was danger in Hogwarts, he was certainly among it. He was mean and rude and biased, and he had tried to kill Harry at the Quidditch game, and he had let in a troll, and he had threatened Quirrell, and he had gotten Delphi kicked out of Slytherin, and _Delphi hated him_.

She spoke without thinking. "Trouble like nearly getting my leg bitten off by a cer--?"

Suddenly it felt like she was a million miles away, listening to the echo of herself saying the single most idiotic thing she could've said, and with icy horror gripping her heart, she waited for him to say something. Anything.

When Snape's mouth finally opened, his eyes were glittering like little black beetles in the dim light of the dungeons, and Delphi was suddenly sure that she'd rather face down another mountain troll than listen to whatever Snape was about to say. "What an _interesting_ suggestion," he whispered. "Whatever did you mean by that?"

For the second time that night, Delphi had no idea what to say. She needed to say something, any lie would be better than guilty silence, and yet she had nothing. What could she possibly say that could fix what she'd just done?

"If you are ever caught," Snape said softly, "anywhere near the off-limits corridor on the third floor, I will personally see to it that you are expelled." Delphi's hands were trembling. Now, finally, after _months_ of detention, she knew how far he would let her push him. Was it better to know? She certainly didn't feel better. "And if, by some chance, anyone inside this school-- _particularly_ a teacher--should so much as imply that you should go near it, you must report this to me immediately. Do I make myself very clear?"

The first part, of course, was clear as crystal. Anywhere near the cerberus ever again meant nowhere near Hogwarts ever again. Terrifying, but simple. But that second bit... what teacher would ever tell her to go near the stupid dog? The only name that sprang to Delphi's mind was Snape's own. He was the one who wanted to get past Fluffy to steal the Stone, wasn't he? Who exactly was he threatening her against obeying, and why on earth would he think that they would turn to her for help?

"Yes, sir," Delphi said.

Snape glared down his hooked nose at her, then jerked his head minutely in the direction of the door. "You are done for the night," he told her. "Your detentions will continue for the rest of the year; you have thoroughly lost any chance of escaping that now. I expect you back here at the usual time next week."

"Yes, sir," she repeated, and with his glare still burning into her, she picked herself up from her chair and feigned a hint of composure as she fled from the room.

* * *

Delphi went straight to the library. Hermione wasn't there, but she hadn't been expecting her to be. Delphi had hoped she'd be alone for this; Snape had given her a lot to think about, and she wanted to sort through this without any distraction.

So what did she know?

One: On the day that a thief tried and failed to steal something from Gringotts, Hagrid removed something from a high security vault and delivered it to Dumbledore.

Two: Dumbledore had warned his students to stay away from a specific corridor in the school in which a cerberus named Fluffy was currently being kept.

Three: A troll had gotten into the school on Halloween, and Professor Snape had gotten his leg mangled that night.

Four: Snape had nearly killed Harry by casting a jinx on him during a Quidditch match.

Five: Snape had been threatening Quirrell about coming up with a way to get past the cerberus. (So far, Quirrell did not _seem_ to have cracked, but there was no guarantee.)

Harry and Hermione's theory so far had been that Fluffy was guarding the thing from Gringotts, which was the Philosopher's Stone, and that someone in the school wanted to steal it, possibly on Voldemort's behalf. And they thought that the someone in question was Professor Snape. The pieces seemed to fit, almost all of them. The only thing that stuck out...

 _And if, by some chance, anyone inside this school--_ particularly _a teacher--should so much as imply that you should go near the cerberus, you must report this to me immediately._

Who the hell had Snape been talking about? If Snape wasn't the only one after the Stone--or if he wasn't the one after it in the first place--then who the hell could it be? Who in the world did he think might task her with getting past Fluffy herself?

Delphi stalked the library shelves, snatching up each and every book that she thought might have the slightest bit of information about the cerberus. Eventually, with a towering stack that threatened to topple with her every step, she retreated to the back table where she and Hermione had first became friends, and she sat down to read.

* * *

It was slow going. Delphi read until curfew, then Disillusioned herself and the books so she could wait silently until Madam Pince had turned out the lights and retired. With a murmured _lumos_ , Delphi lit her wand and read on.

 _A Study on Magical Creatures_ was no help, nor was _An Overview of European Mythic Beasts_ , _The Hippogriff and the Hydra: Worldly Creatures and Their Uses_ , or _The Greek Monsters: From Aeternae to Telchines_. It was only when she finally deigned to crack open _Myths and Monsters for the Modern Wizard: A Compendium of Ubiquitous Tales_ that she finally found spotted something.

"Orpheus," Delphi read, "was the son of Apollo, and his father gave him the gift of an instrument. Orpheus played it perfectly, it is said, and no man nor god nor beast could resist his beautiful melodies.

"Orpheus fell in love with Eurydice, a woman of unique beauty and grace, to whom he was wed. But upon the day of their marriage, Eurydice died by the bite of a snake, and Orpheus put his grief into the most sorrowful of songs.

"With the foolish desperation of a new widower, Orpheus descended into the Underworld to rescue his wife. He journeyed past ghosts and the souls of strangers, and when he reached the cerberus, he played it to sleep with the most enchanting song.

"When he met with Persephone, a deal was struck between them. Eurydice could return to the world of the living, but while she followed Orpheus out of Hades, he must not look back at her until they both stood in the light. So much as a glimpse, and he would lose her forever.

"It was a simple task, and Orpheus thought to complete it quite easily. He led his wife to the surface, but as he walked, his suspicions grew. Was his wife really behind him, or were the gods playing him as a fool?

"Orpheus could not stop himself. He looked back, saw his wife, and lost her. Eurydice was condemned to the Underworld, and soon after went Orpheus, as well."

Beneath the story was a footnote. "It is believed that this legend originates from a peculiar quirk of the actual cerberus. Supposedly, music will easily charm these monstrous dogs to sleep--though few wizards are ever brave enough to try."

Delphi stared at the page. _Music will easily charm these dogs to sleep._ That was huge, and it was reminding her of something, but she couldn't quite...

Delphi gasped. Music would charm the cerberus. Fluffy was Hagrid's dog. And Hagrid had given both Delphi and Harry very odd Christmas gifts, indeed.

Delphi didn't bother putting the books away; she barely even remembered to lift their disillusionment before she was all but running back down the corridors, headed straight for the empty classroom that she called her own.

With intense single-mindedness, Delphi flung herself at her trunk as soon as she was in the room, unlocking it with a flick of her wand, throwing open the lid, and digging in until her fingers hit wood. When finally she pulled out the hand-carved flute, she held it there in her hands, staring down at it in growing uncertainty.

 _What_ did that mean? It had made no sense for Hagrid to give her this gift. She barely knew him, and she had no affinity for music, but he had seen fit to give it to her anyway. And now she knew that it was exactly the tool a person needed to get past Hagrid's own deadly dog.

Was _Hagrid_ the person that Snape had been talking about? Did Hagrid want her--or Harry--or perhaps both of them?--to go after the Stone? Or...?

Her mind raced. She needed answers, and she didn't think she had any chance of getting them tonight.

Delphi tucked the flute beside her in bed next to her wand, and she drifted off to impatient, fitful sleep.

* * *

Saturday morning was as bright and cheery as fitted the Easter break, and for all her growth, Delphi was still relieved that the bulk of the students--and almost all of the Slytherins--had gone home for the holiday. She made it all the way to Hagrid's hut without running into a soul.

When the oversized groundskeeper opened the door, Delphi could tell that she was not the person he'd been expecting. He stared at her for a moment, shocked and silent, and she watched his eyes flicker about as he confirmed that, no, neither Harry nor Ron nor Hermione were with her.

He recovered surprisingly well. "Delphi! Can't say I expected ter see you! C'mon in."

Delphi did as she was bid, and she had to hand it to Hagrid--he played the gracious host. As he gestured for her to sit and shoved a cup of tea into her hands, she was surprised to realize that he genuinely wasn't treating her any differently now than when she'd visited him with her friends.

"So what can I do fer yeh?" he asked, taking a seat of his own.

"Well, it's nothing, really," Delphi said, trying for casual and humble but only managing awkward. "I just realized that I never thanked you for the Christmas present. It obviously took some skill to make--and more than a little time, I'm sure. I feel terrible that I didn't think to get you something in return."

Hagrid wouldn't meet her eyes. "Oh, er... yer welcome, then," he said. "I thought yeh might like it."

"I do," she assured him. "It certainly surprised me, though. I hadn't expected a gift at all, let alone one so... heartfelt. Whatever gave you the idea?"

"The idea?"

"Of giving Harry and I musical instruments for Christmas. I've never considered myself much of a musician, after all. This is the first instrument I've ever owned."

Now, Hagrid looked right at her, his brow furrowed very slightly--though it was hard to tell through all that coarse black hair. "Well, er, I s'pose the idea came from Professor Dumbledore."

Delphi's thoughts fled her. _Dumbledore?_ "It was... Dumbledore's idea for you to give us flutes?"

"Not exactly, no," Hagrid said, shifting uncomfortably. "I, er, might've asked 'im what Harry might want fer Christmas, and when he suggested the flute, he mentioned yeh might like one, too."

 _Dumbledore_. It had been Dumbledore. _Albus Dumbledore_ was the one who had made sure that she and Harry both had the means of lulling Fluffy to sleep.

Delphi didn't get it.

"Oh," she said simply. "Well, he was right, Hagrid. I love it. Thank you so much for thinking of me. I'll make sure to get you something next year; I'm very sorry, again, that I didn't think to get you anything this year. I feel terribly bad."

Hagrid shook his massive head. "Yeh shouldn't. Yer a kid. Christmas is s'pposed to be abou' gettin' gifts at yer age, not givin' 'em."

Delphi offered him a smile. "I'm getting you something next year," she repeated. "Now I think I'd better go find Harry and everyone."

"Tell 'em hullo for me," Hagrid said as she rose. She down her massive cup of tea--she had barely touched it--and gave him a little wave before slipping out of the hut's front door.

She could barely believe it as she walked back up to the castle.

How could it have been Dumbledore? How, how, _how_ did that make any sense? Dumbledore was the one trying to keep the Stone safe from people, wasn't he? Was Delphi wrong about the point of the flute? Was it as inexplicable-yet-innocuous as it had initially seemed, or was she right to think that there was calculation behind it? Surely Dumbledore wouldn't have suggested that Hagrid give her a gift--and such a strange one!--without some actual motive...

_And if, by some chance, anyone inside this school should so much as imply that you should go near the cerberus..._

_\--particularly a teacher_...

Had Snape been talking about Dumbledore? And if he had... Delphi had thought that Snape kept asking about where she'd been because he didn't know, but if he was threatening her against involvement in some conspiracy of Dumbledore's, perhaps Snape knew that she'd been in the Mirror of Erised room with the headmaster that night? Was that even possible? How could Snape have found out? He didn't even seem to know that she'd been sleeping in that very same room for months now; clearly, he wasn't omniscient master spy in Hogwarts.

But if it was true, and Snape really had been implying that he suspected Dumbledore might send her off after Fluffy...

What did it _mean_?

* * *

Over the next few days, Delphi tried to distract herself with work on her invented spell.

She managed to accidentally light two different books on fire and transfigure a third into a sapling.

It wasn't exactly going well.

* * *

A few days later, Delphi ran into Hagrid again in the very last place she would've expected: the library.

For a brief and paranoid moment, Delphi feared he might have been following her. Then, of course, she realized how utterly absurd the thought was. Hagrid could hardly spy on a person if his life depended on it; he had no subtlety whatsoever, as evidenced by his terrible attempt at present to hide a book behind his back.

"Hagrid!" Ron exclaimed, startled. Harry and Hermione turned to look. "What are you doing in the library?"

It was a fair question. If there was one thing Delphi didn't think of in relation to the groundskeeper, it was books.

"Jus' lookin'," he said in a very suspect voice. Delphi could practically feel her friends' interest piquing. "An' I was on me way out anyway."

He shuffled off, still hiding something behind his back.

"Not very subtle, is he?" Delphi said dryly.

Hermione turned to the rest of them. "What was he hiding behind his back?"

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?" asked Harry.

"Doubtful," Delphi said, but Ron was already out of his seat.

"I'm going to see what section he was in," Ron said. Privately, Delphi thought he was just trying to get out of studying any more. He disappeared down the aisle from which Hagrid had emerged, and when he reappeared a minute later, his arms were spilling over with books.

They fell in a cascade upon the tabletop, and Delphi snatched one up to read the title.

" _Dragons!_ " Ron whispered, and sure enough, Delphi held a copy of _The Lives and Deaths of the Modern Wyrms_. "Hagrid was looked up stuff about dragons! Look at these: _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide_."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon," said Harry, and after Fluffy, Delphi could certainly believe it. "He told me so the first time I ever met him."

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden--anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

There was a dawning horror on Harry's face as he asked, "But there aren't wild dragons in _Britain_?" Delphi was one again reminded how little a Muggleborn child could be expected to know--and then she had to remind herself, too, that Harry wasn't even actually Muggleborn.

What the hell had the Ministry been thinking, leaving the single most important wizarding baby in the hands of Muggle fools?

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

Delphi, of course, knew about the Ministry's use of memory charms. The Statute of Secrecy demanded it, when it came to Muggles. But for the first time in Delphi's life, she realized that she was a bit discomfited by the thought. Delphi imagined how it would feel to be on the other side of it, to know nothing of the magic of the world, to finally find proof that it existed, and then to have some Ministry wizard come and steal her thoughts away.

Delphi glanced at Hermione; she was sure that her Muggleborn friend, if no one else, would have already realized what Delphi just had. She expected to see offense--outrage!--set deep into the other girl's features at this acknowledgement that wizards made it a habit of magically tampering with Muggle minds. But there was nothing, no hint of anything judgmental or furious or even concerned in her expression. Hermione didn't seem to care.

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" Hermione asked instead.

Delphi glanced at Harry. He had a glint of determination in his eye, a spark of something... _Gryffindor_. "Why don't we go find out?"

* * *

Delphi found herself in Hagrid's hut for the second time within the span of a week, and she couldn't help wondering if that might be a new low.

There was a striking and distracting difference between this visit and her earlier one, though. The hut had always struck her as rather tight and claustrophobic in an odd way; designed to accommodate a man far larger than herself, it made Delphi feel strangely undersized at the same time as it seemed to press in on her. It was a homey and cluttered place, a kind of lived-in interior that couldn't possibly have been more different from the manor in which Delphi and Draco had grown up. And today, the place felt even worse, even more oppressive and uncomfortable, and it took Delphi only a few seconds to realize why. Bizarrely for this time of year, the curtains were drawn tight over the windows, letting in not so much as a single ray of sunlight, and the only light in the single room of the interior was the smoldering fire in the hearth. It burned away as casually as if this were the heart of winter, and the place was sweltering as Delphi took her seat.

And, though the others didn't seem to have noticed it yet, the unmistakable shape of a dragon's egg--massive, black, and ominous, sat within the crackling flames.

Hagrid, looking more guilty than Delphi had ever seen him, shifted on his enormous feet before taking a seat across from his guests. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, which made a half-hearted flutter toward his kettle before apparently realizing that drawing their attention to it would also draw their attention to the egg. _Looks like we're not getting any tea this time._ "Now, not that I'm not happy ter see yeh," Hagrid began, with an expression that couldn't have appeared less happy if he'd tried, "but what're you kids doin' here?"

Delphi waited patiently for one of them to bring up how suspicious Hagrid had been earlier--or to look over and notice the deeply conspicuous illegal egg currently incubating only a few feet away--but to her immense surprise, Harry instead said, "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Delphi's jaw practically hit the ground. Was _that_ what the look on Harry's face had been about? Until that very moment, Delphi had truly believed this visit was about the prospect of dragons. But there was that Gryffindor bravery again; Delphi had to give Harry that. He hadn't even slightly shied away from outright asking what was on his mind... not that Delphi was sure how bright it was to throw subtlety and caution to the wind like that.

 _Foolhardy_ , Delphi decided. _That_ was what Gryffindors really were.

Hagrid frowned down at them. "I don' know why I'm surprised..." he said, shaking his massive, shaggy head. "O' course I can't tell yeh that, Harry. Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts, remember?"

Delphi neither needed nor appreciated this reminder. "I still don't understand how Hogwarts is supposed to be a safer place to keep it than the bank! If whoever wants it got that far there, what's going to stop him from getting a past a cerberus, too?" _And potentially killing any one of us who might get in his way_ , she didn't add.

Hermione wore an oddly calculating look on her face as Delphi spoke. The minute Delphi was done, Hermione turned to Hagrid. "That's just it, isn't it? It's frightening to think that the school might be a target and that the Stone might not be safe. We only wondered who had done the guarding, really. We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him protect it, apart from you."

Hermione, it seemed, had a gift for flattery--or perhaps just manipulation. Delphi wondered for the first time how well Hermione might have done in Slytherin if she hadn't been a Muggleborn. Hagrid, for his part, was thoroughly taken in by this display; he was smiling down at Hermione, his chest puffed out with pride, and Delphi could see the boys trying to hide their triumphant grins.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments..." He started counting them on his fingers. "Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, Professor Quirrell--an' Professor Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course." He paused, double-checking his finger count. "Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

" _Snape_?" Harry repeated incredulously. Ron and Hermione exchanged surprised glances; even Delphi, who thought herself very slightly less convinced of Snape's villainy than the others were, had a hard time believing it.

"Yeah," said Hagrid. "Yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped _protect_ the Stone. He's not about ter steal it."

"Or," said Delphi, "it means that one of the protections on the Stone will _definitely_ not keep it safe from him. If he's after it, which..." She shrugged. "...seems reasonable."

Hagrid scoffed like he simply couldn't understand how a group of schoolchildren could possibly suspect anything less than sainthood from their cruelest and most utterly creepy teacher, but Harry either didn't notice this dismissal or didn't care. "You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid? And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

Hagrid, once again, looked suddenly very proud of himself. Perhaps he could think of no greater honor than to have the implicit trust of a man like Albus Dumbledore, and though Delphi would certainly never admit it to anyone, she could _kind of_ understand. "Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," he said.

Delphi, of course, knew better than that. _I know_ , she thought, _and I read it in a perfectly ordinary book. Anyone could figure it out!_

But, then, if it was so easy... why hadn't Snape?

It was then, finally, that Harry glanced toward the fireplace. It had taken so long everyone else to catch up that Delphi had quite forgotten why the room was boiling, and for a moment, she didn't register why Harry looked so astonished as he peered into the flames.

"Hagrid--what's _that_?"

Hagrid began to stammer and fiddle with his beard, but there wasn't a witch or wizard in the world capable of looking at that dragon's egg and mistaking it for anything else. 

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" asked Ron, inappropriately awed as he approached the fire for a closer look. "It must've cost you a fortune!"

"Won it," said Hagrid rather sheepishly. "I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

Even if Delphi wasn't slowly growing into the habit of distrusting literally anything non-education that any adult at Hogwarts had to say, this still would've sounded suspicious. Dragon eggs were _phenomenally_ expensive and extraordinarily illegal. And yet there was some idiot in a pub who just happened to have one that he was willing to lose to a perfect stranger in a card game? Nothing about that made the slightest hint of sense.

Delphi glanced at Hermione, sure that she, at least, would be nursing similar suspicions, but Hermione apparently had more practical concerns on her mind. "But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?"

Hagrid pulled out a massive book, obviously the one that he'd taken from the library earlier. "Well, I've bin doin' some readin' abou' that. Got this outta the library-- _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_ \--it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Not that I didn't already know most of it--I've got a bit of a knack fer interesting creatures, and I've always wanted a dragon, yeh know."

So Harry had said. Hagrid flipped through the book, stopped on a particular page, and turned it toward his guests. "See here--how ter recognize diff'rent eggs. What I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

Hermione hadn't looked so horrified since she'd been face-to-face with a fully-grown troll. "Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house_!"

If Hagrid was even listening to this very salient point, then he clearly didn't care.

Delphi simply couldn't wait to go.

* * *

After they finally left the sweltering hut, Delphi walked with her friends back up to the school. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were quietly discussing Hagrid's new dragon insanity, but Delphi's mind was elsewhere. She was still struggling to reconcile all of it: the notion that Snape had provided some degree of protective magic to the Stone; the bizarre disconnect between Hagrid's apparent belief that no one could possibly figure out Fluffy's weakness and Delphi's probable success in having already done so; the question of whether Dumbledore or someone else was busy pulling strings behind the scenes; the deeply suspicious turn of events that was the existence of a soon-to-hatch dragon egg on school grounds and the simultaneous lack of any reason to believe it was connected to everything else that was going on; and Delphi's ever-present uncertainty about how much to tell her friends and just how to pinpoint the right moment to let them know what she knew.

Perhaps it was now.

"But what if--?"

"I know how to get past Fluffy," Delphi said, cutting Hermione off mid-sentence. All three of the others stopped dead in their tracks.

"You _what_?"

"I figured it out a few days ago... or at least I think I did. There's this book of myths up in the library. It talks about Orpheus and Eurydice, and there's this part of the myth where Orpheus has to get past a cerberus to get into the Underworld, and he does it by putting the dog to sleep with music. And..." Delphi paused, realizing that she couldn't bring herself to voice her suspicions about Dumbledore, Hagrid, and the flute. Her friends wouldn't believe her; their suspicions all revolved around Snape and the Dark Lord and outwardly sinister Slytherins like that. They wouldn't believe that Gryffindors like Hagrid and Dumbledore--and she _knew_ the two of them must be Gryffindors, even if she'd never been told directly, knew it down to her very bones--could be involved in anything even resembling a conspiracy of any kind. Harry, Ron, and Hermione would think it was a coincidence, and Delphi wasn't even entirely sure if they wouldn't be right. "Er--and the book said it's probably true, though there aren't many wizards brave enough to test it out to make sure."

"Music?" Ron repeated. "Like, singing it a lullaby?"

"Or, er, playing an instrument," Delphi said.

Harry looked horrified, and for a moment, Delphi assumed he must have realized what she had about Hagrid's gift, and she felt terribly relieved, as if the weight of a boulder had just been lifted off her shoulders. But then he said, "If you found it in a book, that means Snape definitely can. If he doesn't know already. We _really_ need to find out what else is guarding that Stone."

The boulder settled back down.

"How?" Hermione asked indignantly. "It's not like we can go interrogate the other teachers!"

Ron snickered. "Yeah, I don't reckon that one'd go very well. We could _maybe_ sweet-talk Sprout and bully Quirrell into letting something slip, but Flitwick or _McGonagall_? No way they'd tell us anything."

"I guess we have a more immediate problem anyway," Harry said, with a glance back at Hagrid's hut. "I still can't even believe that dragons are _real_. Now Hagrid's going to have one as a pet?"

"Not for long," said Delphi. "They're _seriously_ illegal. What he's doing... I don't know, that might even by the kind of thing that gets you time in Azkaban. The Ministry takes dragons seriously." She looked around at her friends, for the first time regretting having zoned out of their conversation earlier. "You all realize this isn't the kind of thing we can help him with, don't you? We should steer clear of him until he comes to his senses. We don't want to get swept up in the scandal."

Somewhat ironically, this statement itself had Hermione looking scandalized. "We can't just ignore this! Hagrid clearly hasn't thought this through, he's just so enamored with the idea. We have to convince him to change his mind before he gets into trouble!"

"Well, I suppose there's still time for him to get rid of the egg before it hatches, but believe me, if that dragon hatches, we don't want to be involved. Our best bet is that Dumbledore finds out and just quietly takes care of it. He and Hagrid seem to be pretty good friends, after all."

Delphi paused as it occurred to her that her friends were suddenly looking at her with a bit of wariness that she hadn't seen in them since autumn. " _We're_ his friends, too," said Harry. "You're not honestly suggesting we abandon him?"

Delphi stared. "I--I mean..." The honest answer was _yes_ , but clearly it was not the socially acceptable one--at least not within this circle. Delphi swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. "I'm already in a lot of trouble. All the detentions I've had--Snape, he's threatened to expel me already--I--" She shook her head, trying to get enough control of herself to stop stammering. "I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to risk being expelled because Hagrid's got his heart set on a dragon."

"Well, we're going to help our friend," Hermione said, her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest. " _I'm_ not afraid."

Delphi, who rather doubted Hermione would say that if she really understood just how much trouble she would be risking, just shrugged. She knew better than to argue; this was already teetering on the brink of words that she didn't want to hear aloud. "Afraid" would lead to "bravery", which would lead to "Gryffindors", which would by necessity lead to "Slytherins", and Delphi did not feel like giving her friends another reminder that no matter how often she ate at their table or sat with them in class, she would never _quite_ belong.

* * *

In the days after their discovery of the dragon egg, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed true to their word. They went down to Hagrid's once a day and, presumably, tried to convince him to surrender the dragon egg to the Ministry. Delphi didn't know for sure, though, because she stayed true to her word, too, and did not go with them. The further she was from that dragon, the happier she would be.

And then came the breakfast when they all got the fateful note telling them that the dragon was filling read to hatch. Delphi kept her distance as Harry, Ron, and Hermione bickered about whether or not to skip class to go watch, and when she saw that Draco had skirted close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation, she quite happily ran him off.

But that, unfortunately, hadn't been enough.

* * *

Because Delphi refused to go with them, she wasn't there to witness the dragon hatching--nor to catch Draco spying on them with his face pressed against the glass.

* * *

It was only after Draco demonstrated the danger to them that Hagrid (or so Delphi was told later) finally seemed to understand that the dragon, which he'd by then named Norbert, would have to go. They said it was huge now, the size of a dog, and Delphi was quite sure that it wouldn't be long before it grew so big that it could kill any one of them with a single snap of its jaws. Maybe _then_ someone would take care of the problem.

More than once, Delphi grappled with the question of whether or not to go to a teacher herself. Draco still hadn't done so after a full week, but how much longer would that last? And if he did go to a teacher, his choice would obviously be Snape, and that would be quite the mess, indeed. At least Delphi would have the good sense to go to someone like McGonagall instead. Delphi didn't _hate_ Hagrid, after all.

But just as Delphi was mustering up the courage to truly consider the idea, Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally brought back some good news. Harry, it seemed, had come up with an idea; they planned to ask Ron's brother Charlie for help in getting the baby dragon to Romania.

Charlie's reply came back affirmative on Wednesday, but if they had been hoping to get of Norbert before he hurt someone, they didn't manage it; Thursday saw Ron in the hospital wing with a bitten hand swollen to twice its usual size. Delphi barely kept her 'I told you so' unspoken; she didn't think he would appreciate it.

But Ron had even worse news when Harry, Hermione, and Delphi visited him that afternoon. "It's not just my hand, although that feels like it's about to fall off," he whispered, casting furtive looks toward the little office where Madam Pomfrey was bustling about. "Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me--I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me--I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

"He acted like that because he's a prat, Ron," Delphi said, shaking her head. "And if we're all being honest here, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey knows it wasn't a dog that bit you. I'd be really surprised if she wasn't perfectly used to students lying about the stupid ways they've gotten injured."

"Either way," said Hermione, "it'll all be over at midnight on Saturday."

Delphi's words should have worried Ron; Hermione's should have comforted him. But as soon as Hermione finished her sentence, Ron bolted upright with unmistakable panic in his eyes. "Midnight on Saturday!" he croaked. "Oh no, oh _no_ , I've just remembered--Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took. He's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

Two very important things happened at once: three pairs of eyes turned to gaze expectantly at Delphi, and Madam Pomfrey came bustling out of her office with a no-nonsense expression as she made a beeline straight for the four of them.

"Mr. Weasley needs his rest," she said sharply. Waving her hands, she shooed Harry, Delphi, and Hermione from their seats at Ron's bedside and ushered them from the room.

"See you t--!" Ron called after them, but Madam Pomfrey shut the door firmly between them, cutting off the last of his words.

Harry led them away from the hospital wing with that increasingly familiar air of conspiracy about him. When they finally reached a secluded alcove in the corridor, he ushered both girls into its meager privacy; Delphi went with quite a bit more reluctance than did Hermione. She had a terrible feeling that she knew exactly what they were about to ask of her, and yet she had no idea what she could possibly say to their request.

"You heard Ron," said Harry. "Malfoy's got that letter. He's going to find out about what we're doing."

"We could try to write Charlie back and change the date," suggested Hermione.

"There's no time for that!" said Harry. "Malfoy could go to Snape any minute now. What we need to do is get that letter back." He turned to Delphi significantly.

"Harry, I..." _Can't go back into the Slytherin common room._ But even as she considered offering up her excuse--and it was a _good_ one, all things considered--she knew that admitting it now would only distance her even further from her friends. She'd been kicked out of the common room months ago at this point, and Delphi hadn't so much as hinted at it to her friends. (If she was being perfectly honest with herself, she hadn't truly believed that her exile would last as long as it had so far; she hadn't truly believed that the other Slytherins could've kept it to themselves... but apparently they were an even more effectively secretive bunch than Delphi had realized.)

In short, if Delphi got out of doing this favor for them by revealing that she'd been keeping such a big secret for so long... She didn't think it would _end_ their friendship-- _Merlin, she hoped not_ \--but it would certainly be a blow.

Delphi closed her eyes, pushed down every thought screaming in her skull that this was an incredibly stupid idea, and nodded. "Alright. I'll see if I can get it back from him. If we're very lucky, he won't even have found the letter yet."

The words _but you guys owe me_ were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite find the nerve to voice them. Somehow she didn't think her Gryffindor friends would appreciate that sort of tit-for-tat. Gryffindors, of course, did things for their friends out of sheer bravery and with reckless abandon.

Delphi was _definitely_ not a Gryffindor.

And that was precisely why they needed her.

* * *

Delphi stormed into the Slytherin common room with her head held high. Of course, she did so under Disillusionment, so it wasn't quite as gutsy as the notion might imply. Still, she was shaking as she walked past the other students in their black robes and green ties, and she held her wand aloft in preparation for a fight as she stalked toward the first year boys' dormitory.

She had read in several different books about Hogwarts that the founders had harbored some particularly suspicious views about teenage boys; supposedly, male students attempting to enter the female dorm rooms would be barred in some capacity from doing so. All of the books in question seemed to find this more of an amusing footnote than a genuinely concerning one, but at the moment, the unfortunate implications behind this magical precaution were not what was at the forefront of Delphi's mind. Instead, she was entirely preoccupied with the fear that this magical barrier might be a two-way street; if the boys couldn't get into the girls' dormitories, would she be able to get into the boys'? None of the books had mentioned anything stopping girls from going where they pleased, but it was entirely possible that the authors simply hadn't found that reciprocity _amusing_ enough to mention.

But, as anticlimactic as it was relieving, Delphi got into the boy's wing without any issue at all. She paused for a moment on the other side of the doorway, considering this apparent double-standard with more than a bit of distaste. If the founders hadn't wanted the students getting _familiar_ with one another, then surely this was a terrible oversight? And if they only wanted to make sure that the male students didn't take advantage of the female ones... Well, Delphi didn't have a hard time imagining some sinister older boy forcing a girl into the boys' rooms at wandpoint; she, after all, had a far-too-recent memory of just what it felt like to have the tip of an older student's wand pressed against her skin in an unmistakable threat.

The founders, Delphi decided, were _idiots_.

But that wasn't the point right now. Delphi's eyes scanned the numbers above the seven doorways that stood within the antechamber where she had paused. A glittering number one caught her eye, and Delphi headed straight for it. The door was shut tight, and Delphi had to take a deep breath before she had steeled herself enough to turn the knob and push it open with a nerve-wracking creak.

The room was not, unfortunately, empty. Delphi held her breath as she took in the sight before her; Draco and all of his roommates were present, though thankfully distracted. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be locked in some kind of bizarre wrestling match that Delphi didn't even want to guess the reasoning behind; Draco, to Delphi's slight surprise, actually appeared to be doing his homework; and Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were sitting together atop the mattress of the same four-poster, conversing in hushed voices as they poured over some book of their own.

Not one of them had noticed the door.

Paranoid that any step could send something toppling to the floor and so reveal her presence, Delphi crept toward Draco's bed. His bookbag sat open on the floor, and she could see various books peeking out. Without being able to take each one out and inspect them individually, Delphi had no idea which one was Ron's.

So she decided to take them all.

With her wand pointed at the open bag, Delphi bit her lip. Did she dare risk whispering the Disillusionment charm? She didn't see what other choice she had.

Still... she supposed it was worth a _try_...

Delphi waved her wand as if twirling the tip of it around the bookbag, and she concentrated on her will for its invisibility, just as if she were actually saying the spell aloud.

And she gasped very loudly as it disappeared.

"What was that?" Nott said sharply. "That sounded like a _girl's_ voice."

All five of the boys were staring right at her, though she was sure her Disillusionment hadn't failed. They couldn't see her. Unfortunately, Delphi couldn't see the bag she was trying to steal, either--and she really needed to grab it before one of the boys decided to investigate just what they'd heard.

Dropping to her hands and knees against the emerald green carpet, Delphi groped around where she'd last seen the bag. When her fingers found the strap, she heaved it onto her shoulder as carefully as possible and hoped that none of the books spilled as she made a hasty retreat toward the door.

Draco's angry shout of, "Hey, where's my bag?" followed her as she slipped through the antechamber into the common room beyond. She couldn't get out of the dungeons fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In the next chapter..._
> 
>  
> 
> Delphi gets help from an unexpected source, yet another Slytherin stops by the Gryffindor table, Neville forgets the Fat Lady's password, and sneaking around as part of a group proves much more difficult than sneaking around by oneself.

**Author's Note:**

> This story and several sequels are already plotted out fairly thoroughly, but concrit is still very much appreciated. (As is all feedback, of course!)
> 
> And if anyone is interested in beta reading, I'd love to hear from you-- _especially_ if you'd be able to help shave some of the "obviously-written-by-an-American"-ness from this. Feel free to drop me a line in the comments below, on Twitter @aftanith, or via email (aftanith@hotmail.com).


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